


The Judgement of the Elves

by fi3fi3



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Blood, Bondage, Bottom Sportacus, Corporal Punishment, Death penalty, Dub!Con, Dubious Consent, Elf Sportacus (LazyTown), Fae Robbie Rotten, Hanging, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rimming, Self Loathing, Sportacus Whump, Top Robbie, Whipping, Whump, big brother Glanni, fae are horny creatures, implied incestual voyeurism, no one wears underwear, permanent scarring, public slut shaming, two bastards in love, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 77,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fi3fi3/pseuds/fi3fi3
Summary: When Íþróttaálfurinn sees something he shouldn't he reacts instinctively.Unfortunately for Sportacus, this means he's thrown into the midst of a political game which could threaten the very existence of the Numbered elves. Both of them are forced to examine what it really means to be a Hero.Sexual content throughout.
Relationships: Glanni Glæpur/Íþróttaálfurinn, Robbie Rotten/Sportacus
Comments: 132
Kudos: 47





	1. Eight After Eight

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome everyone, to my masterpiece. I have the entire thing drafted so I'm going to post chapters as I edit them. There are 32 chapters in total.
> 
> This fic is pretty heavy going. PLEASE READ THE TAGS!  
> If I've missed any please let me know so I can add them. Don't like, don't read.

The first time Robbie Rotten had fucked him had been rough, quick and somewhat painful - and quite a surprise! Sportacus had been alerted by his crystal to danger in the middle of the night but found only a rat caught in a cage trap. Next thing he knew he’d been bent over a low wall, trousers pulled down to his knees with the familiar lanky villain pushing into him.   
The next day he’d had to lie that he’d sprained his ankle landing a flip to explain the limp. Robbie had just smirked.   
The second, third and fourth times had been much the same. Crystal blaring at the same time each night, so predictable he'd started sleeping in his hero uniform to save time. A small animal, unharmed, in need of rescue. And then a silent encounter with Robbie.   
Sportacus supposed had anyone described a similar set of circumstances to him he probably would’ve been horrified, probably even going so far as to call it rape, but between him and Robbie it had never felt like that. It had been a surprise the first time, but thrilling. And he kept answering whenever Robbie called. 

After the first few times Robbie got bolder, teasing him during their usual hero and villain escapades - a surreptitious caress as he brushed past him, a squeezing grip on his arm as he was manhandled around, but still their night time trysts continued. It wasn’t long before the daytime games changed. Robbie was no longer trying to run the elf out of town, but rather capture him and take him back to his lair.   
The children thought nothing of the change to the routine. Villains capture heroes after all, and Sportacus always managed to escape a couple of hours later with a big smile on his face. Everyone was having fun!

Of course the memories of what happened down in that underground lair were enough to make Sportacus blush.   
Robbie always fucked him, that much was a constant, but the setting had changed. For the first time Robbie had positioned them face to face and Sportacus had beheld the grey eyes up close with joy. For the first time they’d seen each other fully naked, Robbie taking the time to examine every inch of the elf before flipping him over and fucking him into the cold, hard floor. 

Sportacus loved every minute of it. Not just the sex, although that was exquisite, but the growing connection between them.   
He’d been concerned by the presence of a fae when he’d first arrived in Lazy Town, but Sportacus had quickly come to realise that Robbie didn’t mean the children any harm, in fact quite the opposite, he seemed protective of them. And although they hadn’t got off to the best of starts, Sportacus had always hoped that with a little perseverance he and Robbie could become friends. 

Friends. Yes he supposed that’s what they were to each other now. Sportacus smiled to himself, groaning in pleasure as Robbie pounded into him from behind, one hand pressing him down across the cold metal workbench, the other pulling roughly at his hair. Friends.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Íþróttaálfurinn, currently the Eighth Numbered Hero of the Heroic Legion of Sports Elves, dug around at the bottom of his wicker balloon basket searching for where he’d dumped the new communication setup he’d been issued. Personally he preferred the standard paper aeroplanes as a communication method, but he supposed there was something to be said for being able to converse ‘face to face’ in real time.   
The Council had been on a modernising kick ever since they'd replaced the old Number Ten balloon with a swanky new airship, just in time for Sportacus's graduation.

It was for Sportacus's sake that Íþróttaálfurinn now cranked the handle on the side of the smooth white control panel. The screen flickered into life and Íþróttaálfurinn quickly navigated to the menu which would connect him over to the AI in Sportacus's ship.  
As much as he loved his little brother, Íþróttaálfurinn couldn't help but feel that Sportacus was spoilt rotten with all this technology to help him.

An emotionless female voice greeted him through the screen.

"Good afternoon Number Eight. How may I be of assistance?"

"Let me speak to my brother." Íþróttaálfurinn demanded, never quite knowing the proper way to address a machine and feeling awkward about it.

"Of course. Accessing internal cameras. Sportacus, you are receiving a transmission from Number Eight."

The screen changed to white and Íþróttaálfurinn found himself looking at a wide angle view of the interior of the state-of-the-art airship. Sportacus, a stark contrast in blue against all the white, bounded over towards the camera, waving enthusiastically.

"Íþró!" 

"Sportacus! How are things over in Lazy Town?"

"Everything is great Íþró! How are you doing in Mayhem Town?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I had to arrest that fae again last week. Caught him making off with a whole crate of imported- no it doesn't matter. He's been taunting me for years, since I was Number Ten."

Sportacus nodded sagely, "That's one thing about the fae, they are… persistent."

Íþróttaálfurinn didn't quite know what to make of his brother's reaction. The words were reasonable enough but the blushing half smile that followed was less so.   
He frowned slightly as he watched Sportacus call for a skipping rope - the ship actually threw him one, and start jumping and twirling the rope in front of the camera. Unless Sportacus had changed his behaviour considerably since he was an elfling, Íþróttaálfurinn would've said the sudden desire for skipping pointed to him being embarrassed about something.   
How odd.

"You've been keeping up with your training I see," Íþróttaálfurinn continued, changing the subject, "that is good."

"Of. Course… Íþró." Sportacus finished his skipping with a flourish before posing with his hands on his hips. 'Show off', Íþróttaálfurinn thought.

"I practice everyday! Just like you taught me!"

Íþróttaálfurinn smiled. "Good. I'm glad to see you doing well. I must go now though, Mayhem Town can't be left alone for long."

"It must be the safest place on earth if you protect it half as well as you once protected me!"

Íþróttaálfurinn's heart swelled with pride. "I'll always protect you Sportacus, you're my baby brother. But I really must be going..."

Sportacus waved brightly into the camera.

"Goodbye Íþró!"

Íþróttaálfurinn hung up the call and made to pack the communication panel away but instead reconsidered. Something wasn't right. It was nothing he could put his finger on, but his instincts as a big brother told him that something was off with Sportacus.   
He placed the panel to one side. It wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on him for a few days.

* * *

  
  
  


Sportacus awoke to the sound of his crystal beeping. 

Leaping out of bed he noted that the sky was dark and the moon high in the sky. Night time. That meant it was probably just Robbie calling.

"Door!"

"Sportacus, it's not yet morning." The computer's voice was as cool and crisp as ever.

Sportacus rolled his eyes, "I know but someone's in trouble! Door!"

The door opened outwards and a cold night time breeze wafted inside. Sportacus looked down into the town square. There under the lamplight, not even bothering to hide anymore, was Robbie Rotten himself. Pinched between his thumb and forefinger he appeared to be holding up a struggling kitten by the scruff of its neck.

Sportacus leapt from the airship feeling the familiar thrill of the fall, followed by the reassuring jolt as his glide wings deployed. He landed effortlessly, coming to a stop just in front of the tall fae.

Robbie smirked and dropped the kitten. It landed on its feet and scurried away into the undergrowth. Sportacus's crystal fell silent.

"Where would you like me tonight Robbie?"

"Stop talking." Robbie gestured to the goalpost set up at one end of the sports field. "Tonight I'm gonna get a hole in one. Take your clothes off."

"That's golf Robbie." Sportacus moved over to the goalposts, shedding layers of clothing as he walked, "This goal is for football."

Robbie pushed the naked elf onto the ground. "Don't say another word or I shall have to gag you."

Sportacus whined as Robbie swatted him on the backside. 

"That's right, be as loud as you want, it's not like we're out in the open or anything." Robbie scolded, grinning mischievously, "I bet I can make you scream…"

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Íþróttaálfurinn hauled his way back up the ladder and flopped into the wicker basket. What a night! Eight o'clock had long since been and gone and, whilst it wasn't unusual for his work to continue into the night, he was rarely up this late. He thought about trying to sleep for the last few hours but knew that the adrenaline coursing through him would make sleep nearly impossible.

He wound up the ladder and munched idly on a pear until his gaze came to rest on the sleek white communication panel. His brother would certainly be asleep, yet now the idea was in his head, Íþróttaálfurinn couldn't help but want to check for himself.

He cranked the handle and navigated through the flickering screen, pausing only briefly before initiating contact with Sportacus's airship.  
The familiar female voice greeted him just the same as she would had he been calling in the middle of the day instead of the dead of night.

"Good morning Number Eight. How may I be of assistance?"

Morning? He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. He supposed it was.

"Don't wake Sportacus, it's nothing urgent."

"Number Ten is already awake."

The ship's response surprised him. "Oh? Well then, let me speak to him in that case."

"Apologies Number Eight. Number Ten is not presently on board."

"He's probably off saving someone, no worr-"

"Would you like to see? I can engage the external cameras."

Íþróttaálfurinn frowned. It seemed like an invasion of privacy to be able to call up the airship and spy on his brother at all hours. He supposed that the ship knew he was family, 'it probably wouldn't let any of the other Numbered Heroes in like this' he thought to himself. Still he made a mental note to ask the Council about it next time he passed that way.

He was curious though. He'd never had the opportunity to observe his brother working since he'd graduated. What harm could it do?

"Yes, I would like to watch."

"Accessing external cameras."

The screen flickered and adjusted. Moonlight flooded the empty sports field at the heart of Lazy Town. Íþróttaálfurinn smiled fondly, he had enjoyed his posting there, and was glad of the chance to see it again.  
Movement caught his eye. Framed by the goalpost at one end of the field were two figures entwined together. It took a moment for his brain to process what he was seeing. 

That muscular figure lying on his back with his legs in the air… with his arms held down over his head… that man squirming with delight beneath someone tall and fully clothed… was his baby brother!

Íþróttaálfurinn let out a cry and pushed the screen away, covering his eyes.

"Why would you show me..? I thought he would be saving-" Íþróttaálfurinn pulled his hat off and ran an exasperated hand through his hair. He was relieved to see that the camera feed was no longer coming through to his screen but noticed he was still connected to the AI.

"So who is that man?" He chuckled, glad to feel the shock wearing off, "Will I have to worry about meeting a potential brother-in-law any time soon?"

The airship replied as emotionless as always. "Identified: Robbie Rotten. Fae."

Íþróttaálfurinn felt his heart drop into his stomach. A fae? 

"H...h...how long…?" 

"Number Ten has been meeting with the fae regularly during the night for the last three months." Íþróttaálfurinn gulped, "and in the last two months has visited the fae in his home precisely twenty four times."

Íþróttaálfurinn's head was spinning but the AI continued coolly, "Number Ten has sustained frequent minor injuries such as bite marks, bruising, scratches, rope burns-"

"Stop! Stop, I can't hear this." Íþróttaálfurinn kicked at the communication panel, disconnecting the call. He rested his head in his hands, covering his eyes.

He wouldn't've wanted to hear details of his brother's sex life at the best of times but this was a troublingly dangerous discovery.   
The fae were dangerous creatures. Powerfully magical and notoriously manipulative. There was nothing they would not do to achieve their aims! They would lie, cheat, steal and seduce even if the only prize they sought was a saucer of honey. And they would steal children away…

Íþróttaálfurinn gulped. There were children in Lazy Town. They were in danger.

And the AI had mentioned that the fae had a house. That meant he was in Lazy Town to stay, and clearly he had Sportacus completely enthralled in his glamour...

Íþróttaálfurinn growled, memories of a particular fae's seductive glamours pushing to the surface.

_"...You'd like that wouldn't you my cornered elven friend…" the fae's dark red lipstick brushing against the shell of his ear, "I could make you feel so good, so helpless…"_

_"Stop it Glæpur! Your magic won't work on me!"_

_"So leave…" A slender masculine figure in a tight black dress and impossibly high heels twirled round and ground against him. Although there was barely any wiggle room to the ropes tying him to the chair, Íþróttaálfurinn struggled. He could feel himself swelling at Glanni's words and willed himself to get a grip._

_"I could hold you down and fuck you until your eyes saw stars…" the fae's voice was soft and seductive, "I could make you cum without ever laying a finger on you. I could make you beg for each one of my henchmen to take you in turn. Imagine that… the big hero, on the floor in the dirt, begging for a fae cock."_

_"It'll never happen Glæpur!"_

_Glanni smiled a smile that would have lesser men cave in an instant._

_"I'll never stop asking…"_

Íþróttaálfurinn shivered against the dawn air that was seeping into his balloon basket, and huddled his arms around himself.

Glanni Glæpur had been evading him, kidnapping him and cornering him for years now and he had never once given in to his seductions! Because he was a hero, more than that he was a Numbered Hero. One of the elite elves! If he'd ever given in to Glanni he would've risked being lost to his thrall, and that would've put the innocent citizens of Mayhem Town at risk.

And now here was Sportacus, his own brother, allowing a fae to… to sodomise him! _And_ putting the whole town in danger as a result.  
Íþróttaálfurinn swallowed the pang of jealousy and morphed it into anger.

He picked up the communication panel and scrolled through the menus.

"Call the Elf Council."

  
  
  
  



	2. Íþró and Íþrótt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two Íþróttaálfurinns arrive in Lazy Town and Robbie just wants some peace and quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's clear in the text but here's a cheat sheet:
> 
> Áfram Latibær Íþróttaálfurinn "Íþrótt" - Number Three  
> Glanni Glæpur í Latabæ Íþróttaálfurinn "Íþró" - Number Eight (Sportacus's older brother)

"Good morning Number Eight. The Council has considered your information and has come to a decision. You are to leave for Lazy Town immediately. Pick up Number Three on your way. Escort Number Ten to us, by any means necessary. The Council wishes to speak with him."

"And what of the fae?"

"Leave the fae, he is not one of ours."

* * *

  
  


Sportacus sank into bed gratefully as the clock ticked over to 8:08. It had been a long and tiring day. Robbie had come out disguised as an airport security guard to disrupt the children's noisy aeroplane games. Then he'd 'arrested' the hero for smuggling crystals and taken him back to his lair to perform a thorough cavity search.  
Sportacus blushed at the memory.

Robbie was a strange one, but recently he felt they'd become closer than ever. Although their affairs were still as passionate as always, there had been a few times now that Sportacus would describe more as lovemaking than anything else. Robbie had even left him gifts on a couple of occasions, flowers or berries left up on a high wall where the kids couldn't reach.  
They hadn't yet talked about this, whatever _this_ was between them, but Sportacus trusted that the day would come when they would. In fact, he knew that he trusted Robbie with his whole heart. 

Sportacus was just drifting off to sleep when he heard the familiar hiss of the exterior door.

No one had ever visited him up here… not even Robbie! 

Sportacus sat up in time to see his older brother flip through the door and land at the foot of his bed. He was followed by another, judging by the large number three on his back, Numbered Hero.

"Get up Sportacus we need to leave now." Íþróttaálfurinn's voice was stern and Sportacus couldn't help but notice that he was avoiding meeting his gaze.

"Íþró? What are you doing here?"

Íþróttaálfurinn snatched the duvet from the bed and flung it across the room. Sportacus silently thanked the stars that he'd started sleeping fully clothed.

"I said, we're leaving."

Sportacus hopped off the bed. His brother looked furious. Number Three stood behind him, exuding calm yet clearly poised to get involved at a moment’s notice.

He gathered up the duvet from the floor and tucked it away behind the bed. So much for a good night’s sleep.

"Where are we going?"

Íþróttaálfurinn relaxed fractionally. 

"Home, back to the elf lands." He looked upwards and addressed the ship, "Airship. Follow my balloon until we get there."

"Wait wait, how long will we be gone? Can't I say goodbye to some people before I go?" Sportacus twitched nervously. Whatever it was sounded important, he didn't want the people of Lazy Town to worry. He didn't want Robbie to think he'd run away…

Íþróttaálfurinn growled a low warning but stopped when Number Three placed a hand on his shoulder.

"That's fair Number Eight. The children…"

Íþróttaálfurinn reconsidered. "You may write a note."

Sportacus gulped. "Two?"

"One. And be quick."

Sportacus called for pen and paper and sat down to write. Only one note? But who should he write to? He wanted to write to Robbie, to tell him he would be gone but that he would miss him very much and would be back soon. But the townsfolk deserved to know that they would be without their hero. He needed to warn them all to be extra careful whilst he was away.

In the end he settled on Stephanie. She could talk to both her uncle and Robbie, plus she was sensible enough to look after the kids. Yes, Stephanie was the best choice. He quickly composed the letter.

_Stephanie,_

_I'm afraid I've been called away urgently for a few days. Don't worry, I shall return soon. Please tell your uncle to notify all the residents that they should be extra careful, and I trust you to make sure the kids stay safe and eat their sportscandy and go to bed at 8:08 every night._

_Sportacus_

_P.S. please tell Robbie that I will be back very soon._

Sportacus finished writing and began to fold the letter into the familiar aeroplane shape but paused when Íþróttaálfurinn reached out.

"Why do you want to read my letter?" His brother glared at him in a way that made Sportacus feel like a tiny elfling once again and he handed the note over. 

Íþróttaálfurinn glanced through it, mouth hardening into a thin line as reached the final line, but seemed to decide that it was harmless enough. He quickly finished the folding and chucked the paper plane out the still open door.

"Right. Now we can go. I'll lead the way in the balloon. You'll stay in here with Number Three."

Sportacus opened his mouth to ask one of the millions of questions he still wanted answering, but Íþróttaálfurinn launched himself out of the door, ordering it to close behind him.

"Engaging autopilot"

The voice of the ship announced the beginning of the journey as the ship tilted and made a turn to the north. Out the front window Sportacus could see his brother piloting his red balloon, leading the way.

Number Three settled himself comfortably on the floor, leaning up against the wall.

"Well now, we haven't been introduced. You can call me Íþrótt."

"Sportacus."

"Nice to meet you Sportacus."

Sportacus regarded the elf lounging comfortably in front of him. He was clearly older than both himself and Íþró, he would have to be to be Number Three he thought, but he still had the bearing of a sports elf in top condition. His uniform was quite old fashioned, consisting of a simple pair of green trousers and a dark blue shirt with a large number three embroidered on the back. A large floppy orange hat topped off the ensemble, hiding his ears and hair.  
It was a stark contrast to the sleek blue and white number he himself had been assigned, and different again to the yellow outfit and leather breastplate of his brother. It wasn't surprising he supposed, given how quickly fashions change and the longevity of elves.

"Íþrótt. You have the same n-"

"The same name as your brother, yes. You can call me Number Three if you'd prefer."

Sportacus sank down onto the floor, crossing his legs to sit across from Íþrótt.

"No, no, Íþrótt is fine." He smiled, he hoped, invitingly to the older hero. "Welcome to my home."

Íþrótt glanced around. "It certainly is swanky. I've not been in one of these modern ones before. I hear they're planning to upgrade us all though. Apparently Number Nine already has one, and your brother is next on the list."

"I don't think he'd want that, he's very fond of his balloon."

“He probably won't have a choice.” Íþrótt sighed, “The Council is very insistent on this one. I find it… troubling.”   
The older elf rubbed the back of his neck and stared out of the front window to where the red balloon was bobbing ahead of them. 

“What's happening Íþrótt?” Sportacus spoke quietly, “Has there been an emergency in the elf lands? I could've come on my own.”

Íþrótt turned back to him, “No there's no emergency, as far as I'm aware. I'm afraid I don't know much more than you do. Your brother's remained rather tight lipped on that one.”

“I hope he hasn't got himself into too much trouble.” Sportacus chewed on his bottom lip nervously, “I hear things have been escalating in Mayhem Town lately.”

“Hmmm” Íþrótt made a non-committal noise. 

“Was he… angry on the way over?” Íþrótt raised a questioning eyebrow at Sportacus’s question.   
“I haven't seen him boiling over like that since I stole his hat and hung it up in the fish shed. I _was_ only an elfling and I didn’t realise that he kept his crystal on it and he went absolutely bananas. But normally he's very level headed…”

Sportacus trailed off, stood up and bounced up and down on the spot, swinging his arms back and forth.   
“I should pedal the airship to recharge the batteries if we're going to be flying all day!” He announced suddenly. 

“No, I'll do it.” Íþrótt leapt to his feet, “You get some sleep, we interrupted you.”

Sportacus considered, “Thanks, I think I will.”

They were probably going to be flying all night after all. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Robbie Rotten awoke to the sounds of thumping and screeching echoing down from above. Those noisy kids will be the death of me he thought, marching over to his periscope to assess the situation. 

That's strange. It's long past noon yet no Sportaflop in sight, Robbie thought as he surveyed the scene.  
Even odder was the tableau unfolding before him. It seemed that the tricky girl had got into some sort of altercation with the kleptomaniac boy who was now nursing a bloody nose. The computer boy seemed to be scooping the remnants of some crushed gadget off the floor, anger burnt all over his face. And in the midst of it all was the pink girl, hairband askew, looking at a loss, clutching the bawling cookie boy in her arms.

Where was the blue one? This was normally the sort of thing he'd nip in the bud before it even became an issue.

Cursing the layabout elf - he hadn't even called him down last night so he had no excuse, Robbie hauled himself out of the hatch and marched over to the playground, arms swinging stiffly.

"What's all this NOISE? Can't a villain get any peace around here?"

When all the children replied at once Robbie clutched at his head and screwed up his eyes on despair.

“Pixel punched me in the face! My face! Mine!”  
“Stingy stole my favourite ever necklace, the one that Stephanie got me!”  
“I lost control of my little helicopter 3000 because they were fighting and now it's broken!”  
“Ziggy won't stop crying and the others won't stop fighting and I wish Sportacus was here!”  
“SPORTACUS HAS GONE FOREVER AND HE'S NEVER COMING BACK!”

“STOP! Noisy brats!” Robbie shouted in an exasperated tone, “I did not come up here for a headache! Now everyone shush and raise your hand QUIETLY if you mentioned that flippity flippity Sportakook!”

Stephanie and Ziggy raised their hands, the younger of the two trying and failing to hold back the tears.

“Ok. Pink girl. Why isn't he here?”

Stephanie took a deep breath.   
“We don't know. He left me this note for when I woke up this morning saying he was going away for a couple of days.”

“WHAT!?” Robbie flung his arms up in the air. 

“He said he wanted me to look after everyone and make sure we all ate our sportscandy and that he wouldn't be gone long.”

I knew it was too good to be true, Robbie thought to himself, just as things were starting to get serious between us he ups and bolts. He supposed he should have expected such a thing from a self-righteous do-gooding elf.  
He should never have listened to his brother when he said the way into an elf’s heart was by playing the long game. He’d been so careful! Starting off keeping things purely physical, doing everything on instinct and keeping their rendezvous to neutral outdoor territory. The move into his own home had been a good first step but maybe he’d been too forward with the gifts of fruit and flowers. 

Stupid Robbie. Stupid stupid! He berated himself. 

“He also left a message just for you Robbie,” the pink girl continued. “Please tell Robbie that I will be back very soon!”

“I didn’t get a special message just for me!” Ziggy cried.

Robbie furrowed his brow. First things first. Stop the brats from being noisy all the time, then he would have space to think. 

“Tricky girl. Don’t punch people in the face it’s very messy. It’s much better if you get revenge so quietly they don’t ever know that it was you.  
Thieving boy. Give the necklace back. If you want things you need to learn to win them from people fair and square. Then they will actually be yours instead of stolen goods.   
Computer boy. Your machines can’t break if you make them so strong they break whatever they hit instead.   
Cookie boy. Have this lollipop. And don’t take it out of your mouth until you’ve finished crying.   
And pink girl… say that again?”

Stephanie looked up at him wide eyed. She suspected Sportacus would’ve disagreed with Robbie’s advice, but it seemed to have done the trick for now. 

“I’m… I said Sportacus left a message for you. Please tell Robbie that I will be back very soon!”

“Right. Good. I’m going home now. No more noise!”

Robbie turned on his heel and clomped back to his bunker, falling with relief into his fluffy armchair.   
So the elf hadn’t abandoned him. That was a relief. Still it was unlike him to go running off without warning. Robbie hoped he would at least have the decency to telephone. 

  
  
  
  
  



	3. The Elf Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus stands before the High Council of the Elf Lands.

Sportacus was woken by a bright beam of sunlight falling across his face. He recognised the feel of the warmth on his skin immediately. They were in the elf lands, where you could talk to the sun and hear it reply, where the flowers bloomed and sang all year round and where the water sparkled like pools of liquid crystal. He was home.

Muttering a quick greeting to the sun under his breath, Sportacus quickly packed his bed away. He calculated that he had probably slept for a good eight hours or so, judging by how their journey was progressing. That was one of the magical things about the elf lands - no matter where you were in the world they were always a day's journey away. Or in this case a night's. 

Poking over the top of the driver's seat at the front of the airship was the tell-tale orange floppy hat that Number Three sported.

Sportacus stretched, "Morning Íþrótt!"

The older elf looked round before flipping out of the chair.

"Ah you're awake. Good. Not long now."

Íþrótt gestured out of the front window. Hanging in the sky in front of them, silhouetted against the sun was a familiar red balloon. Below them the green rolling hills and crystal lakes of the outer elf lands stretched on into the distance.

"It's always such a joy returning home."

Sportacus hummed in agreement. He hadn't been back since his graduation into the ranks of the Numbered. 

He began his morning exercises with a renewed vigour, relishing the feel of the elven sunlight on his skin. Íþrótt stood to one side watching, offering tips and instruction whenever he felt it necessary and demonstrating moves whenever he could. Once a teacher, always a teacher.

Sportacus was glad of the morning exercise to clear his head. Everything last night had happened so fast. One minute he was tucked up in bed, the next he'd been strong armed into leaving by an irate brother and a senior Numbered Hero. Now seemed as good a time as any to try and get some answers. 

He chose his first question carefully during his post workout cool down stretches.

"Um, Íþrótt? Why exactly are we coming home?"

Íþrótt sighed, the kid had a good heart and deserved fair warning about the political machinations he was probably walking into. Unfortunately he didn't know much himself.

"I received a transmission from the council yesterday informing me that Number Eight was on his way over to me, and that I was to assist him in locating you and bringing you in."

"What?" Sportacus laughed in disbelief, "Like… an arrest? What have I done?"

"I suppose that's probably why the Council want to see you in person, to get everything straight. I can't say I've heard of anything like this before… Numbered Heroes being sent after one another. It's very troubling, yes very troubling indeed."

Íþrótt caught sight of Sportacus chewing his bottom lip nervously. He clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry little Ten. It's probably just some big fuss over nothing."

Sportacus smiled. Íþrótt was right. There was no sense getting stressed about anything until he knew all the facts. Unlike his brother who tended to barge into situations emotions first.  
Speaking of Íþró, this explained his anger last night. It must've been a terrible shock to him to receive cryptic orders out of the blue to effectively arrest his own little brother. He must be terribly worried. Sportacus resolved to reassure him with a joyful greeting and confident outlook when they landed.

Now that he was reassured about his current predicament, Sportacus's thoughts turned back to Lazy Town. He was confident that the kids would be able to manage without him alright, they were attentive and good hearted, so long as they kept out of trouble.  
But Robbie. Sportacus's stomach flipped just thinking about him. Maybe if he brought back a present of some elven honey cake Robbie wouldn't be so mad that he left.

"Looks like Number Eight is starting his descent."

Íþrótt's voice cut through Sportacus's thoughts. Ahead of them the red balloon had indeed begun to dip downwards, revealing the ornate expanse of the citadel beyond.

Sportacus jumped up, "I'll take us down!"

Íþrótt whipped past him and flipped into the driver's seat. "No no, let me get a feel for this modern steering mechanism before I'm lumbered with one of my own!"

Sportacus sat down next to the pilot pod so he could look out and offer guidance if necessary. Íþrótt didn't need it. It was funny, the older elf hadn't let him near the driving seat at all. A realisation hit him like a cold sponge.

"Oh… I get it, because I'm under arrest!" He giggled, still finding the notion somewhat absurd.

Íþrótt met his gaze briefly then looked back out at the landing strip. He wasn't laughing.

  
  
  


* * *

Once the airship had touched down, Sportacus opened the door and flipped out, excited to jump and run on elven grass once again.  
His path was unfortunately blocked, however, by the polished leather breastplate containing his brother.

"Íþró!"

"The Council have been informed of our arrival, they're assembling in the central chamber now." Íþróttaálfurinn's moustache twitched as he ignored his brother and instead addressed his statements to the older elf who had emerged behind Sportacus.

Íþrótt nodded in acknowledgement. "We'd better get a wriggle on then."

Together the three elves set off towards the citadel. Behind them a group of academy cadets clustered around the vehicles, securing their mooring lines. Sportacus wondered if any of them would ever graduate into a Hero. From what he'd heard Number One wasn't planning on retiring anytime soon. He himself had been lucky that a position had opened up whilst he was just the right age. So many trained elfings had to leave the academy without so much as seeing a Numbered Hero position available.  
Sportacus wondered if he'd have been as happy working here as a palace guard as he was in Lazy Town. Although it would be nice to live permanently in the elf lands, he would never have met Robbie, or the kids, and Sportacus decided he wouldn't change that for all the world.

In front of him his brother tensed as they entered the first of the guarded passageways into the citadel. Sportacus remembered the resolution he'd made that morning.  
He hopped up a little so he was walking in step alongside his brother and turned his head to speak quietly to him.

"Thank you for worrying about me Íþró, but everything is going to be alright. What could possibly happen with my big brother here to protect me!"

Sportacus smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, as much for himself as for Íþró. He turned away to regard the large ornate gates in front of them and so didn't see the ambivalent expressions of guilt, anger and concern playing across his brother's face.

The gates they had come to a stop in front of were as tall as the ceiling and decorated in twisting sculpted vines bearing bountiful fruits. The gates glistened as though they were made of gold.  
Sportacus knew that on the other side of these gates was the inner gardens, filled with plants from every corner of the elf lands, and in the centre of the gardens was the central chamber where he was to meet with the High Council of the Elf Lands. He had been through here only once before, when he'd graduated.

Behind him Íþrótt nodded to the guards who pushed open the great gates and allowed them through. The garden was even more magnificent than Sportacus remembered. All around them the roofs and spires of the citadel rose up but the garden was open to the air. The sun directly overhead greeted him warmly, welcoming him home. The rich beds of flowers displaying every shade of every colour lined the twisting pathways throughout the garden and as the trio of elves passed by the flowers all sang and shook glitter onto them. Tiny birds of blue and green colouring fluttered around their heads. Of all the places in all the elf lands, this garden surpassed them all. It was paradise.

Íþróttaálfurinn led the way swiftly through the gardens towards a rotunda which rose up in the centre. It was made of white marble flecked with gold but had been carved to resemble the base of a huge tree. White marble roots pressed down and disappeared into the ground and huge glass windows nestled amongst the undulations of the white marble bark. The windows were all at different heights and of different sizes, but all of them were placed too high to look in through.  
The top of the rotunda rounded up into a large glass dome, topped off with a glistening golden spire. It was from here that the Elf Council ruled. A building befitting their status.

The Numbered trio soon arrived at the door, tall and golden and decorated with delicately carved verses in the ancient language of the elves. Two ceremoniously dressed guard elves stood flanking the entryway. They stood to attention as the Heroes approached. 

“You are expected. Whenever you’re ready.”

Íþróttaálfurinn turned suddenly. He grabbed Sportacus’s head and rested their foreheads together.   
“Tell them the truth little one.” 

He pulled back and looked deep into Sportacus‘s eyes as if searching for answers.   
Sportacus looked slightly confused for a moment, as though his brother had stated that water was wet, but then smiled as brightly as ever.   
“Of course Íþró, you taught me always to tell the truth!”

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded and turned back to the door. He tilted his head to acknowledge one of the guards. 

“We’re ready.”

The guards pushed open the doors. The three elves entered in single file, Íþróttaálfurinn leading the way and Íþrótt bringing up the rear.  
The inside of the Council Chamber was as ornate as the outside. It was circular inside, with four huge pillars rising up to support the dome overhead. Each pillar was carved into a twisted bunch of vines undulating around one another. Sunlight flooded the room through the crystal dome sending rainbow refractions of light onto the white marble floor.   
Sitting in raised seating against the curved wall opposite the door was the Elf Council themselves.   
There were, maybe, close to forty elven faces - mostly old and wisened, and all were draped in the silver robes of their office.

Sportacus stopped in his tracks, mouth falling open gazing at the splendour before him. It was a long way from the Lazy Town town hall.   
Behind him Number Three nudged him forward, indicating that he should stand in the very centre of the room.   
Sportacus did so nervously. He surveyed the rows of ethereal old elves looking down at him. 

“Hi.. um… hello!” He gave a small wave then put his hand down feeling a little silly. 

A single elven council member, front and centre on the benches, stood up from his seat. 

“Number Ten” he boomed, voice echoing round the chamber, “You have been summoned here to respond to allegations regarding your conduct that have been made against you by Number Eight.”

Sportacus jumped and looked round to where the two Íþróttaálfurinn’s were now guarding the exit. His brother was hanging his head, seemingly studying the patterns on the floor intensely. Number Three was looking between them both, a questioning eyebrow raised.   
Íþró was the cause of this?

Sportacus turned back to the councilman, he shrugged his shoulders.   
“I’m sorry but I really don’t know why I’m here.”

“The accusation: that Number Ten has been negligent of his duty and through inaction endangered the human residents of Lazy Town.”

“What! How?” Sportacus was indignant. He would never hurt any of his friends!

The council elf continued as if Sportacus hadn’t spoken.  
“The facts presented are these. That there is a fae currently residing in Lazy Town. That Number Ten has failed to, despite repeated opportunities, drive this fae out or kill it. That Number Ten has allowed himself to become seduced by said fae and with him, repeatedly engages in the act of buggery!”

A few shocked gasps and jeers erupted from the council elves. 

Sportacus swallowed nervously. This was about him and Robbie. Come to think of it, he probably should’ve expected some negative backlash. The fae were not well respected by the elves. But he had always been taught that being kind to everyone was an important quality in a hero… he glanced back at his brother.   
There was a faint look of disgust on Íþróttaálfurinn’s face that matched many of the faces up on the benches. 

Sportacus put his hands on his hips in what he hoped was an authoritative stance.   
“Now wait a minute. Robbie isn’t-”

“YOU WILL SPEAK ONLY WHEN SPOKEN TO TEN!”

Sportacus could’ve sworn the councilman’s eyes flickered for a moment as he finally addressed him directly.   
Anger seemed to crackle around the room, all focusing down to the centre onto him. 

“We will see evidence beyond doubt of Number Ten’s sordid liaisons, we will see how the fae manipulates Number Ten into gaining access to the town’s children and we will see how Number Ten allows himself to be captured by the fae again and again and again!”

The council elf finished his speech the way a circus ringmaster might introduce the star act, and pointed up to the wall above the door, behind Sportacus. 

He spun on the spot. A flickering white screen built into the white marble wall had come to life. He craned his neck to see, as did the two Íþróttaálfurinn’s who now has their backs to him.   
What appears on the screen was footage of Lazy Town, taken from the air it looked like, of various goings on. 

First Robbie was accusing Sportacus of cake theft and locking him in a small cage. Then it cut to later that night when Robbie had locked him in again and fucked him through the bars.   
Then Robbie was falling out of a tree into Sportacus’s waiting arms while the children cheered. Then Sportacus pressed up against the tree in the dead of night being taken roughly from behind.   
Then Sportacus sat on the open door of his airship securing a blindfold across his eyes and waiting. Robbie tricking him into eating a sugar apple and then taking him on the floor of his airship. 

Sportacus felt a blush rising in his cheeks. Ok so it looked bad. Whoever had edited this video together had clearly wanted maximum impact. The intercutting between harmless games with the kids and explicit shots of him and Robbie made it seem all the more shocking. Each cut causing whiplash from the change of pace. 

Had the setting been different Sportacus probably would've quite enjoyed sitting down to watch a clip show of his and Robbie's private encounters. But such as it was he felt a creeping sense of dread and embarrassment.

The scenes continued showing for what felt like forever. In front of him Sportacus could see that his brother was tense, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. He doubted his brother would want to look him in the eye after seeing all that and so the moment the video finished Sportacus turned on the spot to face the judgemental eyes of the Council.

Silence hung over the chamber for a few beats. All eyes turned to the Hero in the centre. Some were shocked, some disgusted and a few showed pity. Sportacus could feel the fury radiating from Íþró behind him, angry eyes burning into the back of his head.

"So, Number Ten." The council elf stood to address him once more. "What is your response?"

"W..well…" Sportacus stammered. He took a deep breath to compose himself, he needed to be strong in this moment. "As you can see, none of the children have ever been hurt. Robbie would never do that! He's not the sort of fae who steals kids. He lives in Lazy Town!"

"How long have you known that this... Robbie was fae?" The voice of the council elf boomed down at him. 

"From the first day I arrived. He wasn't trying to hide it."

"And why didn't you run him out of town, as you've been trained to do?"

"It didn't seem fair! He's lived in Lazy Town for years."

“But what about the children?” A female voice chipped in from the side benches although Sportacus couldn’t match the voice to a face. 

“He loves the children! He's always making games for them, playing the villain-“

“Could this Council really have appointed a Numbered Hero so naive?” The council elf interrupted, “We have all seen it. He is making those games for YOU!"  
The council elf was shouting now, "Are you so caught in his spell that you cannot see how he controls you? Thirty six instances of kidnapping or imprisonment, fifteen instances of sugar poisoning, four instances of near fatal traps! And fifty three instances of sodomy, twenty nine of which we have video evidence of!"

"But-" Sportacus felt himself begin to panic as the questions came in rapid succession. 

"Did you consent?"

"Of course! Robbie would never-"

"What did you consent to?"

"Err, well you know… the sex…" This couldn’t be happening, it felt like a dream - a bad one. 

"Did the fae ever use a glamour to affect you?"

"What? No! I don't think so. No."

"Do you have anything else to say?"

Sportacus took in a deep breath, calming the rising panic in his chest. This was his chance to tell the truth. Everything was going to be fine. 

"Whatever you may think of my sex life, you cannot judge me for that.” He began, “It is my role as a Hero that you have questioned and I have only ever done my job professionally. The children of Lazy Town are happier and healthier than they have ever been. They are all safe from harm and can enjoy an idyllic childhood. Robbie may be a fae, but he too is a citizen of Lazy Town and I have treated him with same respect and courtesy that I would give to everyone. He is kind and thoughtful and imaginative and I…" _I love him. Oh by the stars I love him!_ "I… He is my friend!"

"Alright." The council elf paused and silence fell across the chamber for a beat before he cleared his throat and spoke again. "You shall be shown to a room where you shall be tested for residual evidence of a fae glamour. Then you shall hear our judgement. Please follow the guards."

Sportacus stood frozen. The words 'I love Robbie' were spinning round inside his head so fast he felt dizzy. Someone was speaking to him yet he couldn't quite process the words.  
One of the uniformed door guards was at his elbow. He felt a hand close around his upper arm. The touch centred him, he took a deep breath.

"Number Ten. Number Ten? Will you please step this way…"

He felt himself being guided from the room and back out into the garden. As he passed him Sportacus caught sight of his brother's face, twisted with rage.  
Out in the garden the cool air ran over his face and his mind cleared a little. The collar of his undershirt was so tight around his neck, he hooked a finger into it and tugged, trying to get some air into his lungs.  
The sweet smelling flowers pumped more glitter into the air around them as they passed. Sportacus could smell it clinging to him, clogging up his airways and fogging up his vision.

He felt worried hands grabbing at his arms as he fell.

_"Shush Sportacus…"_

_Someone was cradling him, stroking his hair. He felt a soft kiss on his tear stained face._

_"You did wonderfully Sportahoney I'm so proud of you… you take your time...come back to me when you're ready."_

_He could feel feather light kisses to the finger shaped bruises on his neck, and the sore rings around his wrists. With each kiss the pain lessened and left. There would be no mark left by the morning._

_Gradually his breathing slowed and his senses returned. The naked body curled around him was strong and bony. The soothing voice, deep and comforting. A face smiled down at him._

_"My Robbie..."_

Sportacus shook his head, fighting for breath. He wasn't in Lazy Town. He was sat on the edge of one of the winding paths in the garden at the heart of the elven citadel.

"...That's right, in and out… in and out. You're doing great Number Ten."

A guardsman knelt in front of him, an anchoring hand on his shoulder.

"Wha-?"

Sportacus thought his voice sounded strange, like it was coming from a distance.

"Looks like you had a panic attack Number Ten. Take your time."

Sportacus ran his hands across his face, every breath feeling easier than the last. He blinked up at the worried faces of the guardsmen. 

"..m Sportacus." He cleared his throat, "Call me Sportacus."

"If you say so Number Ten. You ready to keep going?"

Sportacus nodded and allowed the guards to help him to his feet. He wobbled slightly before his muscles kicked into gear and held him steady.

"Yes. Sorry."

The guard who had been knelt next to him smiled sympathetically, "Not at all Number Ten. You look as though you've had quite a time of it."

Sportacus followed his companions in silence, mind thrumming as his brain fought to absorb everything that had happened in that Council Chamber. He lost track of the route they took through the corridors of the citadel but knew from the various staircases that they were generally heading downward.

"If you wouldn't mind waiting in here Number Ten, someone will be with you shortly." The sympathetic guard offered up a small smile, holding open a thick wooden door with metal bars across the window cut into it.

Sportacus offered his hand to the elf that had helped him.

"Thank you…"

"Edvard" Edvard took Sportacus's hand, shaking it.

"Thank you Edvard." He relinquished the handshake and stepped into the room, hearing the door bolt behind him.

He looked around him. Thick metal bars at the windows, but otherwise a featureless space. Not unlike the interior of his airship, if his airship were made of stone.  
He rather suspected that he was locked in a cell.

  
  
  
  



	4. Ten Tested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie plays with the kids. Sportacus gets examined and Íþró makes a decision.

"And THAT is me out. You're getting the hang of this kid!"

Robbie ruffled Trixie's pigtails affectionately, he'd spent the morning brainstorming ways to keep the kids quiet as clearly them playing around outside unsupervised was too much of a headache.

He'd settled on teaching them to play Baccarat, the rules being simpler than Poker, and found that it appealed to several of them.  
The little trickster girl who he was fast warming to, enjoyed the bluffing aspect of the game, giggling with delight every time she fooled the others. The snobbish boy had been eager to learn more about betting and was hoarding his pile of winnings proudly. Not real money of course… they didn't have enough to make it interesting. And the techno teen had been keen to analyse the statistical probability of each move. He'd have him counting cards soon, always a useful skill.

Now they'd grasped the basics of the game, Robbie had allowed himself to 'lose' the rest of his stakes and excused himself from the table. That should keep them quiet for a while.  
He headed over to where the pink girl was helping the round candy boy with some colouring in.

"Right. Now I shall show you how to make the extra sticky creamy lovely gooey yummy cake!"

Ziggy clapped his hands and squealed with delight. Maybe these kids weren't so bad after all.

Once the blue kangaroo saw fit to come back from his surprise holiday he would have to teach him about indoor games too. Twister sprung instantly to mind and Robbie grinned, making a mental note to order a copy later. Wherever Sportacus was, he hoped he wasn't having too much fun without him…

* * *

  
  


Sportacus sat resting against one of the cold walls of the cell. 

Although he knew that a panic attack was nothing to be ashamed of, now that his breathing had returned to normal he found himself feeling rather embarrassed.

What a day it had been. His time in front of the Council had been an ordeal, having the private moments of his life played out on the screen for everyone to see and analyse and judge. He felt violated.  
And to hear that the person responsible for collecting this information had been Íþró, his own brother! Sportacus wondered if he'd edited the video together himself.   
What he couldn't work out was why… or how?

And to top it all off… what a time to realise he was in love!

Sportacus banged his head against the wall a couple of times. What a complete mess.

At the sound of the door being unbolted from the outside Sportacus flipped up onto his feet and braced himself for whoever entered. Call him paranoid but he was about done with surprises for one day.

A serious looking female elf strode into the room, carrying a small ornate bag embroidered with old elvish runes. The door shut behind her with a thud. Through the barred window Sportacus could see Edvard peering in at them.

"Good day, my name is Jules, I'm here to check you over for residual magic." She spoke quickly, not looking up from her bag which she was rummaging through.  
"If you could just pop your clothes and things off."

When Sportacus didn't jump into action immediately she looked up expectantly, drawing out a few strange looking instruments from her bag. The instruments each seemed bigger than the bag was.

"You can leave your trousers on. But everything else off, now please."

Sportacus fumbled to comply, realising for the first time that quite by accident he had neglected to eat anything today. No wonder he was feeling low on energy. 

He made quick work of his shoes and socks, bracers and vest. He folded each article and placed them neatly together on the floor of the cell. He placed the casing containing his crystal reverently on the top.

“Yes, hat and shirt too. Then stand in the centre there please.”

This elf reminded him of some of the teachers he’d had at the academy. Caring in their own way, but no nonsense. 

Sportacus plucked the hat from his head, shaking out his hair before peeling himself out of his uniform undershirt. He shivered in the cool air of the featureless room, the stone floor sucking the warmth from his bare feet. 

“Stand here, put your arms out.”

Sportacus did as he was bidden, holding his arms this way and that, bending and stretching as Jules wafted various magical smokes around him, measuring the results with the instruments from her bottomless bag.   
Occasionally she’d draw a rune or make a mark in her notebook, but never gave any indication that she’d found anything.   
Sportacus decided that was probably a good thing. 

With a final nod Jules tucked her notebook back into her bag and started packing away her instruments. 

“All done, thank you”

She gathered up his little pile of shoes and clothes from the floor. 

“Wait!” Sportacus stepped towards her. “My crystal, my clothes!” 

She barely glanced up as she hastened to the door. 

“You’ll get them back.”

As quickly as she had arrived, she was gone. Sportacus sighed. Great. Now he was cold _and_ hungry. 

He dropped to the floor into a series of push-ups. At least the exercise would keep him warm. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


_He could feel the lithe, wiry body of Glanni Glæpur panting against his chest as he pressed him against the wall._

_Glanni cackled into the rough brickwork. “Damaging the merchandise will only hurt you in the end Mr. Muscles.”_

_“Shut it Glæpur. I’ve wasted enough of my time hunting you down this week.” He snapped the cold iron cuffs around Glanni’s wrists. He’d had them made specially, the fae slipped out of regular ones as though they were made of elastic._

_Glanni gasped and moaned obscenely, putting on a show. He was pressed right up against him..._

_“Oh yes, chase me, chase me handsome hero!” He could feel Glanni wiggling and span him round, pressing his arm against his neck, pinning him in place._

_Glanni’s image shimmered before him, he seemed more handsome and beautiful at the same time. His eyelashes seemed longer, his breath seemed sweeter. His voice changed, becoming more authoritative. Oh how he wanted him…_

_“You would much rather our positions were reversed. I’ve seen you… you crave me. You want nothing more than to have me corner you in an alleyway, push you down. I would cuff you with your own iron handcuffs - nice new toy by the way, and press your face into the dirt. I could take you with me…”  
_ _The voice was soothing, seductive. He wanted it, he needed it.  
_ _“If you take these cuffs off I could take you with me right now. I’ll give you everything you want. I could put you in a cage to keep you safe… or I could keep you from leaving my bed. A single iron chain round your ankle allowing you just enough freedom to reach the bathroom. No more responsibility… no more hero…”_

_“No!” He growled, shaking his head against the glamour overtaking him. Every time he met the fae it got harder to say no… but he had to. It was his job._

_The timely arrival of the police van snapped his concentration long enough to dissipate the glamour. Plain old Glanni grinned back at him. Of course that wasn’t fair, Glanni Glæpur was neither plain nor old._

_He watched as the devilishly handsome, forbidden fae was loaded into the back of the van, knowing that in all likelihood he would see him again before the month was done. He looked forward to it… and he hated himself for that._

"I have examined him, yes."

Íþróttaálfurinn snapped his attention back to the present. A magic specialist had been shown in and was about to make her report.

"I have checked for residual magic of all fae types. There are minor traces of healing touches on him, concentrated mostly on the wrists and ankles. But no glamour. His mind is his own."

"Interesting. And the crystal?"

She held up the futuristic casing emblazoned with Sportacus's Number. 

"The crystal is intact and has not been tampered with."

The council elf in the centre of the front bench nodded. "Alright, thank you. Give it to Number Three on your way out."

Íþróttaálfurinn winced internally as he watched his counterpart pocket the crystal in its casing. Of course he, himself, was too much of a liability to be entrusted with it. The elf who handed his own brother over for a crime he so easily could've committed himself. Not heroic behaviour by anyone's standard. Nor was the anger he was nurturing in his heart.

He might've forgiven his little brother had there been a glamour involved, he knew how strong they could be. Sportacus was young and impressionable, if he had fallen under a glamour it would've made sense. But to allow a fae to use him, to cage him, to make him less of a hero… and to want it? That, Íþróttaálfurinn could not understand.

Beside him Number Three had stepped forward to address the Council.

"If there was no glamour then that proves surely that his decisions were rational. It is true that the fae has not harmed the children. Perhaps Number Ten just finds this fae's company… stimulating? Unwise? Perhaps, but not a crime."

A council elf on the right hand side of the seating raised his hand and was granted the floor.

"But the absence of a glamour proves that Ten's actions were his own. That he did knowingly allow a fae to hold influence over him and the townsfolk. He flaunted it even."

The floor was relinquished to another, "That is true, and he admitted to us plainly he knew what the fae was from the moment he arrived. Had he driven him out immediately this would never have happened."

Number Three took the floor again.

"And what exactly has happened? No one is injured or missing. No one is dead. What harm has been done?"

A series of voices spoke out from amongst the ranks of councillors in turn.

"He has brought disgrace upon an elite, well respected order of Elves. The Numbered Heroes have been legends for generations."

"Imagine if the Fairy Courts found out about this. We would never hear the end of it. It could be very dangerous politically."

"It would be a scandal. Could damage relations between the Council and the Courts for years to come."

"It should be dealt with decisively."

A murder of agreement echoed around the chamber.

The central elf stood once more. "What say you Number Eight? You brought this matter to us, despite Ten being your kin. What is your professional opinion?"

Íþróttaálfurinn stepped forward into the centre of the floor, to the point where his brother had stood less than an hour ago. Memories of Glanni's taunting promises haunted him. How many of them he had seen enacted on Sportacus is that accursed footage. Rage swelled within him. He wanted nothing more than to squeeze the life out of the fae that had done those things. In his mind's eye it was Glanni's face learing at him, purple and gold pinstripes replaced with a shiny black catsuit. Sportacus hadn't even resisted.

He looked up at the banks of expectant faces.   
"If he does not have the strength to resist the temptations of a single fae…" he paused, "then he has no business calling himself a hero."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sportacus had been through a full round of push ups, paced the perimeter of the cell on his hands, flipped back and forth off the walls and was now on a round of sit ups when the door to his cell was finally opened again.

He was relieved to see Íþrótt hasten inside.

"Íþrótt! What news?"

The older elf checked around, as though he were afraid to be overheard, before speaking.

"I spoke on your behalf but I worry they will not hear it. I fear you are no more than a pawn in someone's game although who the players are I do not yet know. It's all very troubling."

Sportacus gulped. "What does that mean for me? They took my crystal."

"I have it here. I will not let you leave without it."

"So what happens now?"

Íþrótt looked at him sadly, "I'm sorry my boy. I cannot spare you from whatever _justice_ " he spat the word, "they chose to bring down upon you."   
He took up Sportacus's hand in his own and squeezed it. "But you are strong. You are one of us. Numbered. Bear yourself like a Hero and you can get through anything."

Although Sportacus suspected Íþrótt's words were meant to reassure, they coiled and tightened around him. He wondered if this was how condemned men had felt on their way to the gallows.

"Come on then Sportacus, best get this over with." Íþrótt gave Sportacus's hand one final squeeze before dropping it. He turned towards the door.

"But Íþrótt, my clothes…" Sportacus gestured to his bare feet, naked torso and exposed ears.

"You think this is an accident? They designed your clothes, they know what techno tricks you had up your sleeve." He smiled ruefully, "Besides, it's not like any of us haven't already seen you naked."

Sportacus's breath choked in his throat. Íþrótt wasn't wrong but that didn't make the thought any less humiliating. 

The door was held open once again and Íþrótt gestured for Sportacus to head through it. Edvard walked ahead, leading the way and Íþrótt brought up the rear. Sportacus felt totally exposed as they moved along the hallowed halls of the inner citadel. Without his Number to identify him he thought he must appear merely as an anonymous criminal in the eyes of the elves that saw him.

He breathed a sigh of relief once they reached the garden. The garden was so peaceful that just for a second Sportacus could almost imagine he was lying in the mountainside flower meadows of his youth, bathing in the golden sun. But then the winding path they followed brought the white rotunda into view and the illusion of peace was shattered.

It was time to hear the judgement.

  
  
  
  



	5. The Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus hears the Council's decision...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quite intense whump in this chapter guys...

_"You're awake! How do you feel?"_

_"My hands… it burns…"_

_"Those delightful iron cuffs you gave me last time we met. Such a thoughtful gift"_

_"Glanni…"_

_"Oh dear… you're not feeling well. I hope you aren't concussed. I told them not to hit you too hard."_

_"Let me down."_

_"Oh but you're so pretty strung up like this. All stretched out. All those muscles popping. I can touch every inch of you…"_

_"You won't get away with this Glæpur."_

_"Of course not. You don't think I left your legs free by accident? I just wanted to give you a taste of what you could have, just a teaser. You'll never forget how this feels. To be entirely at my mercy, and watch me walk away…"_

Íþróttaálfurinn stood with his hands on his hips, a comfortingly heroic stance, as his little brother was escorted, half naked, into the centre of the Council Chamber.

Sportacus had tried to catch his eye as he'd passed, but Íþróttaálfurinn had kept his gaze resolutely forward. He couldn't bring himself to look at the phoney wide eyed expression of innocence that had once commanded his protective instincts. Not now that he knew just how far from innocent his brother had become.

A hush fell over the Council Chamber as the front, central council elf rose to his feet.

"Number Ten, you are brought before us to receive our judgement. We have considered the evidence brought against you by your kinsman Number Eight and find you guilty on these counts. Neglect of Duty, Wilful Disobedience and Treasonous Fraternisation.   
The Council decrees the sentence. Thirty lashes - to be delivered immediately.  
The Council has spoken. Number Three, Number Eight, to that pillar if you please."

Íþróttaálfurinn glanced toward the twisting carved pillar the council elf had indicated. A pair of heavy manacles hung from it, seemingly fused into the stone. Had those always been there?

Sportacus hadn't moved, trembling on the spot. Íþróttaálfurinn could only imagine the expression currently filling his face. Beside him he felt the presence of Number Three moving forward towards the younger elf. They'd been given orders. They served the Council. He had a job to do.

Sportacus didn't move a muscle until the two Íþróttaálfurinns seized each of his arms. And then he fought. Screaming, kicking. He threw his whole weight against them.

"NO! NO PLEASE. LET ME GO!"

_"Do you enjoy struggling hero? Does it excite you?"_

"ÍÞRÓ, ÍÞRÓTT, PLEASE YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS PLEASE!"

Íþróttaálfurinn surged forward, dragging Sportacus with him. The young elf's bare feet scrabbled at the smooth floor in front of him, pushing with all his might whenever he found purchase. But he was no match for two seasoned sports elves.  
Reaching the pillar, Three and Eight pushed the struggling elf's arms upward, clicking the manacles into place around his wrists.

Íþróttaálfurinn stepped back, out of kicking range, chest heaving as Sportacus screamed and pulled desperately at the manacles although to no avail. His hands were stuck fast above him, stretching his body out, muscled back bared to the room.  
Seeming to accept that he was trapped, Sportacus twisted to look over his shoulder, meeting Íþróttaálfurinn's gaze.

"Please Íþró, brother… help me…" Sportacus's voice was soft, eyes pleading through the tears that ran down his face. "You said you'd protect me…"

_"I could protect you if you'd let me… keep you locked up safe. Locked in a safe! If you want?"_

Íþróttaálfurinn scowled. "You brought this on yourself, brother."

A now familiar voice issued orders from on high.

"Number Eight. You can do the honours."

Íþróttaálfurinn felt something being pressed into his hands. He looked down to see a long, coiled leather whip. The sort that a circus ringmaster might use he thought to himself. The coiled length was a simple braid, it was fine work but the handle was where the craftsman had come into his own. The grip was decorated with an intricate series of images, telling stories of morality and justice. Inscribed in Elvish on the base of the handle was a name, 'Mr Kicker'. Presumably a previous owner or perhaps the craftsman's signature, Íþróttaálfurinn thought.

He looked up at its intended target. Sportacus's deep blue eyes were swimming in tears, and he shook his head, silently pleading 'don't do this'. His whole body heaved from holding back the sobs welling up within him.

_"I could whip you, would you like that?"_

Thirty was too good for him, the degenerate would probably enjoy it.

Íþróttaálfurinn took up his position in the centre of the room, jaw clenching tightly in determination. He felt the weight of the whip in his hand, giving a test crack aimed at the floor. Up against the pillar Sportacus flinched and trembled at the noise. Burying his face into his arm he seemed to be bracing himself for the first blow.

The faces of the council elves all seemed to lean forward as one, staring down at the scene playing out before them. Íþróttaálfurinn brought his arm back, calculating the distance.

The room fell totally silent, as though everyone had chosen to hold their breath at the same time.

The pause felt like an eternity.

Then Íþróttaálfurinn struck.

The tip of the whip moved so fast Íþróttaálfurinn hadn't even seen it. But he'd seen the thin red line cut across his brother's back and the contortion of all his muscles flinching at the impact.  
He'd heard the scream, piercing and primal.

_"I could make you scream hero… I could make you scream in pain and still beg for more."_

One.

Íþróttaálfurinn raised his arm again. Anger flashed across his eyes. That bastard fae wouldn't want him back after this.

He struck again. Sportacus howled, jerking uselessly against the restraints, curling up onto his toes. Another thin red line opened along his back, cutting across the first.

Two.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Pain. Red hot fiery pain. Sportacus couldn't think, couldn't breathe. His only existence was pain.

Somewhere around the halfway mark he'd lost count. A few more after that and his legs had given out from under him. The weight of his body pulled down on his wrists, raw and burning from the unforgiving iron.

His body jerked and flinched with every lash. His voice had grown hoarse from the screaming. Now at the end, by every star in the sky he hoped this was the end, he heard himself producing only strangled whimpers. 

The thought occurred to him that he might be dying. He couldn't remember his own name.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Íþrótt watched the scene unfold before him with growing horror, yet he knew he was powerless to prevent it.

Sportacus hung limply, like a deadweight in his chains. His back was crossed with harsh open wounds which dripped blood, staining the waistband of his trousers and forming little puddles on the floor.  
The white marble floor between him and Number Eight was decorated with lines of blood also, mirroring the pattern on his back, from where the braid had rested briefly before being dragged up again.

Íþrótt had kept a count in his head, not trusting the Council to call a halt and he suspected that Íþróttaálfurinn had lost count. The elf's yellow uniform was speckled with blood, stray drops that had fallen from the braid, and there was a determined fire in his eyes.  
Only two strikes left.

He willed the younger elf to find his strength. This should never have happened. Something was seriously wrong with the Council and the moment Sportacus was safely away from their grasp, he was determined to find out what.

As the thirtieth stroke fell, he noted with concern the lack of reaction. Even more concerning was Íþróttaálfurinn's raising arm. He'd been right on both counts - Number Eight had lost count, and the Council had no mind to stop him.

He rushed forward, grabbing onto Íþróttaálfurinn's arm and wrestling the torturous device from his grip.

"Enough. It is over Íþró."

Íþróttaálfurinn stepped back and seemed to survey the scene in front of him, like he was seeing it for the first time. But Íþrótt paid him no mind. He ran over to Sportacus's dangling form and wrapped an arm gently around his front, carefully lifting him whilst trying not to touch any of the harsh lines. With his other hand he reached up to unlock the manacles, wincing as Sportacus's whole weight fell against him. 

A hoarse whisper emanated from beneath the sweat soaked fringe plastered across the taught, pale face.

"Is it over?"

Íþrótt swept the clinging wet hair to the side, out of Sportacus's eyes. "Yeah kid, it's over. Can you stand?"

Sportacus nodded, wincing as the movement of his neck pulled at the cuts on his back. With a strength Íþrótt could only ever hope to possess, Sportacus placed his feet deliberately onto the ground beneath him and slowly rose to standing. Íþrótt kept a steadying hand at his elbow until the young elf found his balance.

Íþrótt felt a swell of pride for the hero he'd met only the day before as Sportacus lifted his chin to look up at the faces of the council in defiance. With slow, agonising steps he walked the few paces back to the centre of the room. Once he arrived there however, his legs gave out and he collapsed down onto his knees, head rolling forwards under its own weight.

On the other side of the room Íþrótt could see Íþróttaálfurinn breathing heavily. He couldn't begin to theorise what was going through that man's head. Such righteous anger had to come from somewhere. He'd seemed almost wild with it at times.

The central council elf stood one more and addressed the bloodied kneeling figure before him.

"Let the record show that the crimes of this elf have been acknowledged and decisively punished. Further deliberations shall take place to consider his position as one of the Numbered. Until then, let him be returned to Lazy Town so that he might make amends."

So that was that.

Íþrótt approached the kneeling elf and hooked a hand under his elbow, helping him to stand.

"Sportacus? We need to go now. Can you walk if I aid you?"

Sportacus nodded lightly, eyes closed. Íþrótt didn't know how much he'd taken in of the Council's final speech but decided that was for the best. The poor elf had been through enough without having to worry about his Numbered status right now.

Slowly he guided Sportacus out of the Council Chamber, through the glittered flowers of the garden and through the maze of covered hallways of the citadel. Íþróttaálfurinn strode briskly ahead of them, doubling back every so often instead of stopping to wait. Once they were out in the public corridors, passing elves stared openly at the two Numbered Heroes, a rare sight at the best of times, and the broken bloodied figure Number Three was helping.

As they progressed up the corridor leading out towards the landing strip Sportacus stumbled, and by the time they made it out into the open air his legs had all but given out.

"I'm sorry, I just… need a minute." Sportacus whispered breathlessly. Eyes screwed shut from the pain.

"We haven't got time for this!" Íþróttaálfurinn growled, doubling back to loom over his kneeling brother.  
Íþróttaálfurinn bent down and hoisted Sportacus over his shoulder, hands clamping his thighs to his blood-spattered breastplate. Sportacus whimpered, lacking the energy to resist as Íþróttaálfurinn set off towards the distant shape of the airship on the landing strip at a cracking pace. 

Íþrótt jogged to keep up.

At the sight of them approaching the academy cadets scattered, manning mooring lines and preparing for instant take off. When they saw Number Ten near unconscious over Number Eight's shoulder they stopped in their work, mouths agape.

Íþróttaálfurinn stopped at the open doorway to Sportacus's airship and turned to address the cadets.

"Take note. This is what happens if you fail to live up to your Number."

Unceremoniously Íþróttaálfurinn jumped up onto the gangplank of the airship and stepped inside. Íþrótt followed in time to see Íþróttaálfurinn drop Sportacus onto the ground like a sack of potatoes. Sportacus let out a dry sob and rolled onto his side, curling in on himself.

Íþróttaálfurinn headed over to the pilot pod, muttering about energy levels. Whilst his back was turned, Íþrótt took the opportunity to slip the Number Ten casing containing the crystal into Sportacus's pocket. He leaned down to whisper to the younger elf, unsure of whether his words would get through.

"You are a true hero my boy, and I vow to you I shall find out why this happened to you, and I shall put a stop to it."

Íþrótt left the airship as Íþróttaálfurinn finished setting the autopilot for Lazy Town and hopped out after him. He watched the door close and the ship rise into the air with a heavy heart.

He wished on everything good left in the Elf Lands that this Robbie was the sort of person who would look after Sportacus and treat him well. The whole business had left him deeply troubled.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun story. This chapter is basically the entire reason this fic exists.  
> I had insomnia one night and in order to try and get back to sleep I was imagining ludicrous fic scenarios in my head. At 2am I came up with the idea for this scene. By 4am I had the framework for the whole story drafted and started writing chapter 1. I didn't stop writing for a week.
> 
> So yeah... everything else in this fic exists to justify the events of this chapter XD


	6. The Journey Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie makes a plan for his elf's return and Sportacus attends to his injuries.

Sportacus awoke cold and alone on the floor of his airship. Every part of him hurt, but the throbbing pain that consumed him was the hash of open wounds across his back.  
The light coming in through the front window was dim and ill-defined, more of a glow than a beam, and the shadows were long. It was night time.

That was good. Sportacus didn't feel like he had anything left within himself to face a new day.

Gentle vibrations travelled up through the floor, rocking his body slightly. The ship was in flight, en route back to Lazy Town. He probably had many hours left on the journey. Travelling out of the Elf Lands always took longer than travelling in.

That was good as well. Sportacus didn't want to move.

An apple rolled across the floor, coming to a stop near his hand. He ignored it and closed his eyes. He allowed the gently rocking of the floor to lull him back to sleep. In his dreams he was happy, whole and with Robbie.

  
  


* * *

Robbie stared at his empty chalkboard. He'd enjoyed sulking in his chair with a bowl of packing peanuts for a few hours but then he'd started to grow bored. What was he supposed to do without the jumping blue elf around to play with? That's when he'd resolved to come up with an excellent plan for when Sportastrong returned.

It had to be magnificent, imaginative and worthy of a welcome home present. And easily set up, so he could be ready to go at a moment's notice, the moment the blue ship appeared in the sky. And it had to end up back down in the lair, so they could pick up where they left off.

He stared at the empty chalkboard in disgust. Why was THINKING so HARD!?

He thought about Sportacus's habits. He'd have to exploit something that he was constantly doing, so that he could guarantee immediate success, rather than waiting for an opportune moment. That was easy, there was one thing Sportacus was always doing, FLIPPING!  
He just needed to design a way to capture him whilst he was flipping!

Inspiration struck. When someone flips their head becomes lower down than their shoes. So Robbie needed to create some sort of machine that sucks up the nearest pair of shoes, and the person wearing them, and then place it in the sky above Lazy Town! That way, when Sportacus next did a flip, his shoes would be the closest to the machine and he would get sucked into it!  
Then all Robbie would have to do would be to reel the machine back into his lair, strike a handsome pose and the elf would go all gooey for him!

“It's PERFECT!”

Robbie leapt towards the chalkboard and began sketching out his plans with renewed vigour. 

Sportaflop was going to love this!

* * *

  
  


Sportacus awoke with a groan, his back throbbing and muscles stiff from a night spent curled on the hard floor. The first pink glow of a new dawn reflected off the walls around him. 

He rolled carefully onto his front, wincing as he broke the seal of blood that had dried and stuck him to the floor. He batted the apple away into a corner and rose shakily onto his feet. The area of the floor where he'd been lying was stained and smeared with the blood that had pooled off him in the night. It was stark and horrific against the pure white of the room.

He peeled off his red stained trousers, wincing as the dried blood pulled off him painfully, and dropped them onto the floor. They were ruined anyway. He made sure to rescue the crystal in its casing from the pocket, placing it into an alcove on the wall. 

Stumbling slightly, Sportacus made his way through to the little bathroom area through the flush doorway on the back wall. Being already naked, he walked straight into the shower cubicle and lent on the button to turn on the water. One of the benefits of an omniscient AI was that the water temperature and pressure were always just right to sooth his muscles from whatever heroic moves he'd been doing, however when the warm water hit the lesions on his back his whole body clenched in agony.

He braced his forearm against the wall and rested his forehead in the crook of his elbow. He hissed through clenched teeth as the water fell on him, feeling the stab of every drop. Below him the water spinning down the drain was bright red.

Sportacus didn't know how long he stayed leaning against the shower wall, but it was sufficiently long for the water running off him to have changed to a light rose pink colour and for the pain to have lessened to a persistent ache.

He straightened up, letting his head under the stream of water feeling it flatten his hair. The water ran down his face and into his eyes. His moustache drooped.   
His eyes welled up, and not just from the water in the shower. He felt so empty, like someone had sucked out all the hope and laughter from his soul.  
In one terrible day he had lost everything, his brother, his dignity, his strength, and now potentially his job.  
The emotions and memories overwhelmed him all at once and he broke into sobs, wrapping his arms across his chest, wishing that he were in Robbie's comforting embrace.  
The tears mixed with the shower water, falling from his face and disappearing down the drain.

Eventually Sportacus ran out of tears but only once the sobs that had wracked his body ceased, leaving him only trembling, did he decide it was time to get out of the shower.  
He forewent a towel, not wanting to aggravate his injuries, trusting instead that the airship would know to raise the temperature to allow him to drip dry.

He plodded into the main room, noting with a grimace that the floor was once again pristinely white and his trousers had disappeared. Reaching for a bottle of water and an apple, he called for the bed and perched on the side of it. He munched on the apple, not really tasting it but feeling the energy seeping into him. He remembered that he hadn't eaten in over a day and so called for a pear as well.  
Very quickly he began to feel better as the food and water entered his system. He needed to think practically about what to do next.

"Airship. How long until we arrive in Lazy Town?" His voice came out a little hoarser than usual.

The airship, however, sounded the same as always. "We shall reach Lazy Town in approximately three hours, just after lunchtime."

"Wake me an hour before we arrive."

Sportacus laid down on top of his duvet, face down. The soft material welcomed him and he sank into it gratefully. Even though he had slept much more than usual already that day, he found himself yawning and was soon asleep.

_Sportacus found himself standing in a featureless white void._

_‘I must be in my airship’ he thought to himself, but it didn’t feel like his airship. It felt too large, like the space went on forever with no walls or ceilings to contain it._

_The only colour in the space came from Sportacus himself but that too was strange. The shape and feel of his uniform was familiar, but the colour was wrong. Since when had his clothes been orange? Sportacus plucked the hat from his head to see if the orange theme continued but was shocked to find it green! A deep, verdant green beneath the familiar white double stripe pattern._

_Orange and green? How peculiar._

_Sportacus’s observations were interrupted by the sudden vibrations of the floor.  
_ _An earthquake! He thought, but no... it had the pattern of footsteps. Huge, world shaking footsteps. And they were coming this way._

 _Sportacus tried to run but the featureless void he was stuck in made it difficult to pick a direction. Suddenly he came to an edge.  
_ _He was standing on the edge of a huge cavern so deep he could not see the bottom._

_He turned, intending to head back in the other direction but was shocked to discover a hand advancing towards him. The hand was huge, each finger the size of Sportacus himself, and it was reaching out to grab him._

_Sportacus tried to run but the fingers snaked around his middle and plucked him off the ground.  
_ _He struggled but he was stuck fast in the fist's grip._

 _He was brought up level with a ginormous face, which peered down at him.  
_ _Sportacus recognised it. The face belonged to his brother._

 _As the giant_ _Íþró_ _opened his mouth to speak Sportacus was hit by a wave of hot breath which smelled of fish._

_“Some grated carrot for my sportscandy salad!”_

_Íþró_ _’s voice was deafening. The giant moustache, which seemed to Sportacus to resemble more of a roll of carpet given its size relative to him, flapped as he talked.  
_ _Sportacus felt himself being carried downwards to where another giant hand was coming up to meet them. From it dangled a giant cheese grater._

_Sportacus began to struggle in earnest._

_“No! No please!”  
_ _He begged as the giant_ _Íþró_ _pushed his back up against the grater._

_“Please let me go-“_

_Sportacus screamed as he was dragged downwards, feeling the flesh being cut from him like ribbons.  
_ _As_ _Íþró_ _moved him back up to the top of the grater Sportacus could see his own blood staining the metal. It was thick and orange.  
_ _Sportacus screamed again as he was grated a second time. The pain was excruciating, he felt as though almost half of himself had been grated away._

_After the third stroke down the bloodied grater Sportacus went limp, moaning and begging with his last whispered breaths._

_He dangled in the orange stained hand as he was brought level with his giant brothers face once again._

_Íþró_ _was opening his mouth wide. Sportacus could see every pearly white tooth, sharp and dangerous._

_He kicked and screamed with all he had left as the hand brought him up to the mouth. Closer and closer and..._

"Sportacus. It's time to wake up. We shall be arriving in Lazy Town in one hour."

The emotionless female voice penetrated Sportacus's dreams and dragged him back to reality.   
He groaned and slid off the bed, bare feet hitting the hard white floor before moving over to the covered nook containing his spare uniforms. He was not looking forward to this bit.

The trousers he slipped on easily enough, and then he decided to get the shoes and socks sorted next, wanting to put off the skin-tight undershirt as long as possible. But soon he could put it off no longer.   
The shirt was designed especially to fit him and usually he enjoyed the way it clung in all the right places, accentuating his muscles. He undid the zip that ran from top to bottom on the back of the shirt. Normally he wouldn't have a problem doing the zip up behind him, as he always made sure to exercise the flexibility of his arms and shoulders, but today he expected it would be harder.

Sportacus slipped his arms into the shirt and pulled it flush against his chest. He composed himself then reached round, pulling the bottom two ends of the zip together and locking them in.  
Trying to hold the material away from his torn skin as much as possible he carefully raised the zip as high as he could before rotating his arm back over his shoulder for the upper half.

The whole process was slow and tortuous. The further up the zip travelled, the tighter the material pressed against his sore flesh. He screwed up his eyes. Just a little further!

Sportacus felt his hand reach the base of his skull, and the zip reach its end. He shook out his arms, wincing at the sting as the movement pulled the fabric of the shirt across the mass of cuts. He felt a suspicious wetness by one shoulder blade and realised with a grimace that he was probably bleeding again. Quickly he pulled on the darker vest and fastened the crystal casing back where it belonged. He tried not to think about the bold orange ten and how proudly he had worn it. Currently it felt like a burden. 

When it came to the bracers he paused, noticing for the first time the ugly red patches around his wrists. They no longer hurt but he remembered the burning of the iron against his skin. He hadn’t been in the manacles too long… hopefully they wouldn’t scar permanently, but elves were particularly sensitive to iron so it was a possibility. 

With a sigh he slid on the bracers, thankful at least that he could hide the marks from the world with his uniform. 

Finally Sportacus slipped the hat and goggles over his ears, making sure to tuck all loose strands of blond underneath. Everything back to normal, as if yesterday had never happened. 

Taking up a position by the front window he stood, keeping as still as possible for the sake of the growing trickle of wetness across his back, and waited for the first glimpse of the rooftops of Lazy Town to welcome him home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing the dream sequence in this chapter... I don't know if you can tell lol XD


	7. Holding Out For Our Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids welcome Sportacus back to town.

An urgent sounding alarm burst suddenly from the speakers of Pixel’s computer speakers, making Stephanie jump. The pyramid of delicately balanced cards she had been working on collapsed to the ground. 

“Aawwww!” Ziggy whined. 

They had been working on the tower together whilst the others had been playing the card game Robbie had taught them. Pixel had wanted to use his computer to track the statistics of the cards… or something, so they’d been indoors all day. 

But the alert had attracted all the kid’s attention. Pixel ran over to check, fingers flying across the keys. 

“Hey guys! My Sky-Monitor 7000 has picked something up! It’s Sportacus’s airship!”

Stephanie gasped in delight! He was back! All the kids jumped to their feet in excitement, all games forgotten, as they raced down into the main square, jumping and waving up at the airship. 

The wait for Sportacus to actually emerge from the ship was excruciating. Every minute felt like an hour.

Ziggy pulled at the hem of Stephanie’s dress, “When’s Sportacus coming? When?”

“I don’t know Ziggy, he’s probably got to finish driving the ship first before he can open the door.”

Stingy sighed, “I can’t wait to see MY hero, Sportacus.”

“Wait, I see movement!” Pixel stared up through his techno glasses, zooming in on the sky above him. “The fly pod is detaching from the ship!”

“Sportacus is coming! Yay!” Ziggy jumped up and down in excitement. “I can’t wait to see all of his cool new moves!”

The children watched with bated breath as the fly pod came to a halt on the other side of the square, hovering barely half a meter from the ground, and their beloved hero clambered out. 

That was strange, Stephanie thought, she would’ve expected him to jump and somersault out of the pod instead of climbing out like any normal adult.   
The thought didn’t stop her from running over with the others, grinning from ear to ear. She was just glad he was back. 

Sportacus brought his fists to his hips in his signature hero pose. 

“Hi kids! I’m back!”

“Sportacus, Sportacus!!” Ziggy reached his arms up for a hug, bouncing excitedly on the spot. Sportacus didn’t bend down to pick the youngest boy up, but instead ruffled his hair.   
Stephanie could’ve sworn his eyes had flashed with panic for just a second, before switching back. She looked closely at the hero’s face as the others all ploughed in with questions. 

Sportacus seemed… tired. That was the best way she could think to explain it. Although his mouth was smiling, his eyes hadn’t really joined in. And the whites of his eyes were slightly redder than she remembered, almost as if he’d been crying. But Sportacus doesn’t cry!

And, she noticed with growing concern, the man hadn’t jumped or flipped once! This was probably the longest she’d ever seen him stand still! What was wrong with their hero?

“And how are you Stephanie? Have you been playing cards with the others as well?”

Sportacus’s voice interrupted her train of thought. She plastered a smile onto her face, more convincing that Sportacus’s she hoped, and met his gaze. 

“Yeah! And Robbie taught me and Ziggy to bake his favourite cake. It was great!” She considered if she should ask Sportacus if he was ok, sometimes adults didn’t want people to notice if they weren’t. She remembered that Sportacus always told them that it was never wrong to ask questions and so decided to speak up. 

“Are you ok Sportacus? You seem… very still.”

The blue hero paused, smile faltering slightly before he recovered himself. 

“I’m always ok Stephanie! My secret mission made me a little bit tired that’s all.”

Stephanie tilted her head. Maybe he was just tired. 

“Ok. Would you like to come and play football with us Sportacus?”

“Yeah!” All the kids jumped for joy, “yeah let’s play football Sportacus!”

The hero shook his head, “I’m sorry kids but I can’t right now. There’s some things I need to do in my airship. But I shall come back and see you soon!”

Stephanie watched Sportacus again as the other kids whined and pleaded. He seemed resolute, refusing offers of football, basketball, tennis and even baseball. Stephanie recognised the tone of voice from her father, before she'd come to stay with her uncle… Sportacus didn't really want to be here, but was trying his best not to let them know. Stephanie felt sadness welling up inside her. Maybe Sportacus was going to leave Lazy Town forever sooner rather than later.

Before long Sportacus had managed to extricate himself from the throng and had clambered back into his fly pod. Again - no flips.

"See you later!" He waved, voice forcibly cheerful.

Stephanie, like the rest of them, tilted her head to follow the path the pod travelled before docking back underneath the airship. 

"Ok. What's wrong with Sportacus?" 

For once, Stephanie was glad that Trixie spoke her mind, it saved her from bringing it up. She wasn't the only one who had noticed either it seemed, all of the children chipped in with observations and suggestions.   
Stephanie relaxed a little. With all of them working together, they could figure out what was wrong and fix it in no time!

  
  


* * *

Robbie woke in his armchair, fully rested after most of a day's sleep. He estimated it was probably late afternoon, and he hadn't been woken by noise once! Teaching those kids how to bet had been the smartest thing he'd ever done.

The villainous fae stood up and stretched. His work on the newly dubbed 'shoe-sucker elf-fucker' machine had kept him up all night and he was excited to try installing it this evening so he'd be ready for Sportaflip's return.

He wandered over to his periscope and peered out across the town. That was strange, the children were sitting in a circle under the big apple tree. They didn't have any playing cards with them, they seemed to just be... talking! Their faces looked worried.

Well, he could spare a few minutes to check on them. They were his to protect after all.

Robbie clambered up out of his lair and headed over to the tree to where he'd seen the children.

"What are all these sad faces about hmmm?"

"Oh Robbie!" The girl Trixie launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "Robbie there's something wrong with Sportacus!"

Robbie's stomach flipped - ironically.

"S..s..Sportacus?"

The computer boy pointed up to the sky. Looking up, he beheld the familiar blue airship suspended above the town.

"He's back.." Robbie muttered, not wanting to tear his gaze from the ship containing the elf who'd stolen his heart.

Trixie grabbed his hand and pulled him down to join the circle on the ground. He crossed his long legs.

"Tell me everything. Wait!" Robbie pointed to the pink girl, she was the most eloquent, "You. Tell me everything."

Stephanie drew in a deep breath, she looked sad.

"Sportacus's ship came back a couple of hours ago. We ran out to meet him. He came down in his fly pod but he acted really strange. He didn't do any flips or stunts, he didn't give any of us a hug, he didn't want to play any sports and it looked like he'd been crying."

Robbie felt the familiar twist of anxiety tightening inside his chest.

"We've been discussing it. We think he might be sad about something."

"Yeah!" Trixie interrupted, "we were going to write him a letter. But it's hard to know what to say when we don't know what he's sad about."

Robbie nodded, trying desperately not to catastrophize before he knew all the facts.

"I think a letter would be very… nice." Urg, why was he the one having to give advice about feelings, "perhaps if you write him a welcome back letter, telling him how much you missed him, that will cheer him up."

The children visibly brightened. The pink girl produced a pad of paper and pencils from her little pink bag excitedly.

"That's a great idea Robbie!"

"Good!" Robbie stood up, brushing his trousers with his hands to rid his suit of any potential dirt. "And keep being quiet!"

He strode back to his lair, mind racing. Sportacus had arrived back in Lazy Town and hadn't been to visit him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly upset about that. But more importantly was the worrying reports from the children. Sportacus hadn't left information about where he'd been going, so Robbie was at a loss as to what the elf could possibly be upset about.

Clearly the situation called for a change of plan. He needed to find that damn cat before tonight.

* * *

  
  


Sportacus scrubbed at his shirt in the sink in the bathroom of his airship. He cursed the Council for designing him such a light coloured outfit. Actually, he cursed the Council for a fair few other things as well.

The lesions on his back had opened up again as he'd feared and the back of his shirt was patched with spots of red. Worse still it had seeped into the teeth of the zip, causing the mechanism to stick. Sportacus had had to twist and wriggle his way out of the garment, further aggravating his injuries.

He slapped the soaked, ruined shirt into the sink and swept an arm across his brow, brushing the loose hair from his eyes. This was getting him nowhere.

The elf wandered back into the main room, relishing the lack of material over his bare torso, and called for some sportscandy. The five letters he'd received, one from each of the children, lay on the bed. Reading them had tugged at his heartstrings. They'd all started off the same, welcoming him home and telling him how much they'd missed him, but then each had gone on to write something more personal.

Trixie had recounted details of a card game Robbie had taught her. Sportacus didn't know the game but he had been glad to hear that Robbie had been looking after the children in his absence.

Ziggy had drawn him a picture of the two of them doing superhero poses under a big yellow sun.

Pixel had written something very clever about numbers that Sportacus hadn't quite understood whilst Stingy had offered to show Sportacus his collection of stamps, and coins, and cuddly toys.

Stephanie's letter had been the longest. Detailing everything that had happened in Lazy Town whilst he'd been away. She talked about her uncle the mayor and Robbie teaching them how to play indoors and reassured him that there had been no emergencies as they'd all been especially careful to stay out of trouble.

She'd signed off with a simple statement. 'I hope you feel better soon.'

She was a clever one. Sportacus thought that he should've been surprised that it was her who clocked on to something being wrong. He would have to try extra hard to act normally when he went down to visit tomorrow, to reassure her. He didn't want the kids to be worrying about him.

The clock ticked closer to eight and he undressed gratefully. Moving the letters to an alcove in the wall for safekeeping, Sportacus crawled onto the bed and collapsed face down on top of the duvet. 

He was awoken in the middle of the night by the blaring of his crystal. Rolling out of bed he crossed blearily to the window, calling for his telescope.  
In the square, standing under the lamppost holding up a struggling kitten, was Robbie. Sportacus felt his heart skip a beat.

He wanted nothing more than to go to him. 

The elf sighed sadly. He couldn't go. How could he even begin to explain the mess he was in? And to the man he loved - the _fae_ he loved - who was unknowingly at the centre of it all. He didn't even know if Robbie had feelings for him, other than physically. And he was in no shape to have sex, not yet. No, it would be best if he could avoid Robbie as long as possible. 

And the Council would probably approve, he thought bitterly.

"Sportacus." The cool voice of the airship interrupted his thoughts, "Your crystal is indicating that there is trouble in Lazy Town."

Sportacus ran a hand through his hair.

"It's only Robbie. He'll get bored eventually." 

“Number Ten.” The airship somehow managed to sound stern without the tone of her voice changing at all. “It is your duty as the town Hero-”

“I said..!” Sportacus snapped, “It’s only Robbie…” he felt a twinge of regret at the words, even if there was no one to hear them. 

The elf sat cross legged on the floor by the window and kept the telescope to his eye, watching silently as the crystal beeped rhythmically.

After a while, a long while, Robbie dropped the cat and the crystal fell silent.

Sportacus watched as his lover retreated to his lair sadly, and then returned to bed.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone itching for a Sportarobbie reunion... watch this space ;)


	8. Home Is Where The Elf Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie wants answers, and finds more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise midweek chapter update because I have some extra energy for once!
> 
> There's some smut in this one chaps!

  
  


Robbie was angry, and sad. Very sad, but also angry.

Sportarude had ignored him. If the elf hadn’t’ve wanted to see him he could've come down and said so but to leave him standing out there all night like some jilted groom at the altar! It made him feel like a fool!

Robbie wanted answers and he was determined to get them.

Earlier in the morning, much earlier than he should ever have been awake, he'd encouraged the children to play outdoors on the sports field. They'd looked at him like he'd grown another head until he'd suggested that the sight of them playing sports would cheer up a certain hero.

What he actually needed them there for however, was bait. 

Sooner or later Sportaheartbreaker would show up to play with them, or just talk to them, and Robbie would be able to grab him. He didn't have any particular plan, trusting on instinct to carry him through. This wasn't a scheme, this was serious. No one stands up a Rotten without good reason.

Robbie waited, determined rather than patient, and was eventually rewarded by the sight of the weird mini hovership thing gliding down towards the sports field.

The elf sprang out with a cheery greeting, before adopting his signature pose.

Robbie leapt out from where he had been hiding, charging full pelt towards the hero. The element of surprise was key, or else he would never stoop so low as to exert himself. He didn't want the elf running away again.

He barrelled into Sportacus's midriff, shoulder connecting with firm abdominal muscles and stood, hoisting the elf onto his shoulder with the momentum he'd built up on the way.  
The hero made an 'oof' sound but didn't struggle. 

Robbie clamped his hands round the hero’s thighs to keep him steady, resisting the urge to touch the blue-clad arse that was now _very close_ to his face. He felt Sportacus wriggle slightly, adjusting his position. Man the elf was heavy! The quicker he got him back to his lair the better.

"Sorry kids. I need to borrow your hero for a while. I'll bring him back later!"

Before they could have a chance to argue, Robbie set off for his bunker. He could've sworn he heard Sportalump groan a couple of times as he bumped along with him. That was fair enough it couldn't be comfortable.

A familiar voice offered a timid suggestion from behind him.

"I can walk myself you know."

Robbie snorted, "And have... you... run off on me.., not likely. We're... nearly there."

Reaching the billboard he struggled up the first two rungs of the ladder and slid the elf feet first into the tube. He caught a brief glimpse of a shocked face as it rushed past him. He climbed in after it, closing the lid behind him.

He landed in the chair only to see Sportacus picking himself up off the floor stiffly. Ok, so there definitely was something wrong.

Robbie crossed his arms. Sportasilent didn't seem inclined to talk, so Robbie prompted him.

"Well, I'm waiting."

The elf grimaced. "I can't have sex with you right now Robbie-"

The fae rolled his eyes. "Obviously SportaSNORE. I'm waiting to hear your explanation."

"Its… it's a bit complicated."

Robbie raised an eyebrow and waited for the elf to continue.

"I had to go back home… to the elf lands… I was sort of… arrested."

Robbie gaped, "Arrested!?"

Sportacus continued contritely, "The Elf Council thought… someone had told them… they said I had endangered the people of Lazy Town."

Robbie laughed, "That's ridiculous! You're the best hero Lazy Town's ever had! Why did they think that?"

Sportacus hung his head, staring at the floor. "It doesn't matter, what's done is done… I should probably be going."

The elf turned around towards the exit pipe. As he turned Robbie caught a glimpse of a colour worryingly other than blue peeking out from underneath the dark blue vest.

"Are you bleeding?"

"Damn." Sportacus stopped in his tracks, cursing softly under his breath. "It's nothing-"

Robbie strode over and lifted the hem of the vest with a long finger.

"It's not nothing! Look it's all over your shirt!" Robbie grabbed the shorter man by the hand and began dragging him over to the living quarters behind the main room of the bunker. "I have some medical supplies in the bedroom."

The elf protested but allowed himself to be pulled along "I don't want you to…"

"Pussh, it's no trouble!"

"...see, I don't want you to see…"

Robbie stopped, "Sportaprude there isn't a single part of you I haven't seen. I've seen _inside_ you and believe me that's a sight I shan't ever forget!" He grinned, "The sight of a little blood won't scare me away. Let me take care of you."

A single tear rolled down Sportacus's cheek, his lip trembling. He nodded, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey now, it's ok" Robbie cooed gently, guiding Sportacus into the bedroom, "let me get this top off and then I can kiss it better…"

Sportacus helped undo the clasp securing his crystal casing and allowed Robbie to slip the vest off his shoulders. Robbie gasped.

Blood had soaked into the white undershirt in several places, whatever this was wasn't some minor injury. He carefully pulled the zip down from the top of the collar.

As the zip descended, Robbie's eyes widened. He peeled the shirt away as gently as he could, noticing with a grimace how the sodden fabric clung to the torn flesh. Anger bubbled up inside him.

"Who the _fuck_ , did this to you?"

Sportacus trembled, starting to cry as the emotions overtook him. He shook his head.

"I can't…"

"Was it the Elf Council?" Robbie remembered Sportacus's earlier comment about being arrested, putting two and two together. He ghosted his hand over the elf's lacerated back being careful not to touch, but the hero flinched regardless. This looked excruciating.

Robbie came to a decision. Treatment first, questions later. His healing kisses - low level fae magic to speed the recovery of bruises and the like, wouldn't be much use here. Luckily he kept a well-stocked medicine cabinet, anticipating that some of their night time games might've eventually progressed past what healing kisses could fix.

"Lie down on your front while I fetch some things… and no shoes on the bed!" Robbie called back over his shoulder as he headed into the bathroom. He ran some warm water into a bowl and fetched a cloth and some bandages. He also picked out a magical salve that was good for cuts, and headed back into the bedroom.

Dutifully Sportacus had removed his shoes and was now lying face down across Robbie's bed. His strong arms were wrapped around a pillow which he was resting his chin on.

Robbie let out a low whistle, "Don't say 'it's not as bad as it looks' because let me tell you, it looks terrible!"

"I don't know what it looks like." Sportacus's voice was muffled by the pillow.

Robbie climbed onto the bed next to him, careful not to spill the bowl of water.

"Probably for the best, not until it's healed a bit anyway." He dunked the cloth into the warm water, and squeezed the excess moisture back into the bowl. "This might sting a little."

He could see the elf's muscles tightening, bracing himself.

As carefully and as gently as he could, Robbie dabbed at the abused flesh. Beneath him Sportacus gasped and moaned a little, flinching occasionally, as Robbie slowly cleaned away the excess blood. 

Three bowls of water later he could see clearly enough to assess the situation.

Thin, neat lines criss-crossed back and forth, gouged into the skin. Robbie didn't care to count them but they were numerous in number although mercifully not very deep. He hesitated to use the term 'superficial' as there was nothing superficial about this situation at all, but at least it hadn't cut through any muscle.

Robbie imagined the instrument that might have made such marks, seeing all manner of evil creations in his mind eye. Instead he chose to funnel his rage towards the person or people who had wielded such a weapon. He hoped Sportacus had given as good as he'd got and not made it easy for them.

He unstoppered the vial containing the magical salve and carefully poured it out until it covered every inch of exposed, open flesh. The thick mixture covered the wounds, replacing the red for grey specked with green. Once every wound was covered, Robbie set about bandaging the whole area. He worked quickly but efficiently, glad for the first time that he'd had the opportunity to practice on his brother.

"All done. I'll need to change the bandages every day though. It's pretty nasty."

Sportacus sniffed.

"Thanks." The elf started to push himself up off the bed.

"No, no! Lie back down. I said I would take care of you and that is what I intend to do." Robbie bustled around, clearing away the medical supplies. When the bed was cleared of all but the bandaged elf, Robbie came round to edge nearest Sportacus's head and knelt down on the floor. Sportacus raised his head to look at him and Robbie could see the deep blue eyes were half closed and sleepy. Tear tracks stained his face and the silly moustache was crooked from where he'd been leaning against the pillow.

Robbie reached up to remove the hat from the hero's head. He buried his fingers into the golden locks and started to massage the scalp beneath. Sportacus sighed as the tension he'd been bottling up started to leave him and he let his head fall back onto the pillow.

Robbie massaged Sportacus's head and neck slowly, lazily, taking his time. Soon the elf was purring beneath his fingers. Robbie smiled, pleased to be able to bring him some comfort.  
He slowly worked his way down a strong, muscular arm, feeling the way the muscles released at his touch. He worked past the elbow and down the forearm as far as he could.

Gently, not wishing to disturb the calm, Robbie slipped off the bracer blocking his path. Sportacus's wrist was red and raw in the form of a thick band running right the way around it.

"Bastards!" Robbie swore, quickly pulling off the other bracer only to find a matching ring of burns. "How dare they use iron!"

"...t"s nothing." Sportacus didn't move, his voice soft and sleepy.

"It's not nothing, it's barbaric! You must know what iron does to our kind, these will probably scar!"

Robbie regretted his outburst immediately. Of course the Hero would know about the dangers of iron. Robbie gathered up Sportacus's wrists and pressed healing kisses to the abused flesh. He knew they wouldn't help. No healing technique, magic or otherwise would cure an elf or a fae of iron burns. Sportacus would have to wait for them to fade over time. If he was lucky perhaps they wouldn't scar, but Robbie suspected they probably would.

And the do-gooding council of elves did this? To utilise such horrific corporal punishment was one thing but to use iron? It was unthinkable! And to think the elves had the audacity to call the fae cruel creatures!

Robbie continued massaging, working his way up the other arm. When he reached the top he let go and stood up. Sportacus whined lightly at the loss of contact.

"I'm going to take your trousers off ok? I need to check you're not hurt anywhere else."

Sportacus hummed in agreement, lifting his hips so Robbie could slide the trousers down his legs, revealing a pert bare arse.

At least they left me that, Robbie thought to himself. He half expected to see the same raw rings around Sportacus's ankles but the skin was mercifully unmarked.  
Starting with each foot in turn, Robbie massaged his way slowly up each of Sportacus's muscular legs. The elf vibrated lazily beneath him, purring contentedly again.

Robbie moved both hands to Sportacus's arse cheeks, manipulating the flesh with skilled fingers. He pressed a kiss to the crease where arse meets thigh.

"Let me make you feel good." He whispered.

Sportacus hummed sleepily in agreement. 

Robbie spread Sportacus's cheeks and licked up the crease. The elf shuddered.  
Robbie grinned, sticking out his long tongue and probing the puckered entrance. When he pushed into the tight hole Sportacus keened, clenching and releasing around Robbie's tongue.

Robbie continued for a while, slowly easing his tongue in and out until the fluttering hole was nice and wet. He withdrew, noting the moan of loss from the sleepy elf. He put a long finger into his mouth, sucking on it before pulling it out with a 'pop'.

He gently eased the finger past the ring of muscle and into the warm space beyond. Robbie felt around, crooking his finger until the hitch in Sportacus's breath told him he'd found the right spot.

"I'm going to make you cum using just one finger. It'll be so good Sportababe I promise."

Robbie massaged the spot deep inside the elf, watching with satisfaction as he wriggled his hips, grinding a little onto the mattress. The hero whined, starting to pant slightly, eyes screwed up tight. He pressed his face into the pillow.  
Robbie grinned, sensing he was close. He sped up his ministrations and felt Sportacus clench around his finger.

The elf released the breath he was holding and relaxed, muscles all loosening at once.

Robbie pulled his finger out and crept over to the bathroom to wash his hands and mouth. When he re-entered the bedroom, Sportacus was asleep.  
Smiling to himself, Robbie fetched a large, soft blanket and draped it over Sportacus's lower half, careful to avoid touching the bandages.

Let him sleep, he thought, heartened to see that the expression written across Sportacus's face as he slept, was a smile.

* * *

  
  


Robbie slumped into his fluffy armchair. He'd never quite understood the animosity some of his kind had for elves - finding them rather fascinating himself, until now. What kind of monsters would chain an innocent Hero in iron and cause him such pain? The cowards hadn't given him a fighting chance.

Robbie sighed. He'd been living in Lazy Town so long he hadn't bothered to keep up with the political goings on, although now he wished he had. Something big was obviously brewing and Robbie Rotten needed to know about all of it.

He reached for the phone, and called his brother.

“Hello Glanni.”

The voice on the other end of the phone was low and silky and devastatingly familiar.   
“Robbie dear! So good of you to call! Finally fed up with that boring little anthill you call home?”

“No Glanni, look… something's happened.”

Robbie supposed he should start at the beginning.   
“There's this elf… a Hero elf who came to live here. He's so beautiful Glanni, all muscles and... so on. And I wanted him-”

Glanni chuckled. Robbie ignored him in favour of continuing his story. 

“So I did what you said - took things slowly. Fucked him outdoors, y'know, no mushy stuff. And I was starting to think he might like me back…”

Glanni whistled, “I'm proud of you little bro, either you're some big-dicked prodigy or you've somehow bagged yourself the most gullible elf in existence! I'm not having so much luck. What kind of glamour did you hit him with?”

Robbie flinched, “Glamour? I didn't use any. I was trying to be romantic!”

“What!?” Glanni sounded incredulous, “you mean you just seduced him straight up? You've got some balls. You really must love him!”

Robbie processed Glanni’s words, letting them roll around in his head.

“So what went wrong?” Glanni continued, “I'm guessing something did or else you wouldn't be calling.”

Robbie braced himself to tell the rest of the tale.

“So three days ago he disappeared. Didn't say goodbye or anything, but he left a note with one of the humans saying he would be back soon. He came back yesterday, but I didn't see him at all and he ignored my call to rendezvous in the night.”

Glanni snorted.

“So today I thought enough is enough and kidnapped him, just like anyone would do. I’m worried. He's hurt Glanni, he's hurt really badly.” Robbie chewed on his lip, the memory of Sportacus’s scars still fresh in his mind. 

“So you want my help to get revenge? Great. Who are we going after?”

Robbie smiled, touched by his brother's selfless offer.   
“I'm afraid it's not quite as simple as that… what do you know about the Elf Council.”

“More than you I suspect. Why?”

Robbie had a feeling that was probably true. Glanni had contacts everywhere.   
“It was the council Glanni, they arrested him, tortured him, used _iron_! He won't tell me why but I know he's innocent. I need you to find out more.”

“Huh.” Glanni's tone became serious. “I'll certainly do some digging. I've got a couple of contacts… don't worry little brother, leave it with Glanni Glæpur!”

Robbie breathed a sigh of relief, “Thanks Glanni.”

“Don't mention it. Seriously don't. A fae's got a reputation to uphold. Go take care of your elf…” Glanni’s voice paused thoughtfully, “no glamour huh? Maybe I should try that.”

The call rang off with a click. Robbie felt better knowing Glanni was on the case. If anyone could find out what had happened it would be him.

The fae snuck back into his bedroom. The elf in question was sleeping soundly, right where he’d left him. Robbie smiled at the sight.

As carefully as he could, so as not to wake the slumbering hero, Robbie climbed up onto the large bed and stretched out next to him. Sportacus’s golden curls had fallen across his face, exposing the tip of one slender, pointed ear.

Robbie couldn’t help himself, he reached out and gently brushed the hair out of Sportacus’s eyes. It was so soft in his fingers, as though made of silk.

“Whatever am I going to do with you?” he whispered softly, stroking the soft curls.

“I love you, you silly elf. I don’t know why… but I do.” he paused for a moment, listening to Sportacus’s slow breathing. He was still asleep, good.  
“Maybe one day I’ll be able to tell you that.”

Yawning suddenly, Robbie felt tiredness overwhelm him, he’d been up early after all. A lunchtime nap never hurt anyone, he thought, and curled up alongside the slumbering elf on the bed - mindful not to touch any of the bandages. Sportacus’s bare skin was warm and soft and very comforting, and pretty quickly Robbie was snoring gently.

  
  


* * *

The first thing Sportacus noticed when he woke up was how comfortable he was. He was lying naked on purple satin sheets on a deep springy mattress, a heavy fluffy blanket covering him from the waist down, and there was the familiar form of a lanky fae curled up along the length of him. For a brief, blissful second, Sportacus felt like the luckiest elf on the planet waking up next to the fae he loved, but then reality crashed around him and he remembered everything.

How long had he been sleeping? He checked the clock - mid afternoon.

Sportacus started to panic. He hadn’t meant to stay down here so long! Scratch that, he hadn’t intended to come down here at all! So much for avoiding Robbie.  
If the Council was watching him they’d have seen the villain pick him up and carry him away, they’d know he’d been down here for hours. Further evidence against him if they wanted it to be.

The words he’d half heard through the fog of agony back in the Council Chamber rose to the surface in his mind.  
“ _...to consider his position as one of the Numbered…_ ”

If they were watching him? He’d be a fool to think that they weren’t. And his Number was at stake.

Sportacus climbed off the bed, careful not to disturb the snoozing fae and quickly gathered his clothes from the floor. He carried them out into the main room of the underground bunker and slipped them on. The blood stained undershirt was cold and unpleasant to put on, but the bandages kept a barrier between it and his skin which Sportacus welcomed.

He slotted his crystal into place, his fingers lingering on the ‘ten’ emblazoned across the casing.

He was truly grateful for everything Robbie had done for him, patching him up and looking after him, but now it was time to leave. The last thing Sportacus wanted was the Council turning their anger towards the man he loved. He would take a hundred beatings to spare Robbie that.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun story, the whole rimming scene was one of those fun little unplanned things that I didn't know was going to happen until I was writing it. I think it turned out ok though XD
> 
> Also, first appearance of Glanni!!!
> 
> Poor Sporty... I hope people are enjoying this fic. I basically just wrote what I would've wanted to read lol.


	9. Glanni Probes The Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glanni does some digging, Sportacus plays some sport and Robbie has the best nap of his life.

Glanni Glæpur slipped back into the hotel room that he'd conned his way into a few days ago, locking the door behind him. He was dressed entirely in black; a stylish ruffled dress shirt with tight black trousers, a long coat with an upturned collar and a hat pulled low. He looked every inch the industrial spy, but y'know, a fashionable one.

He'd just returned from an anonymous smoky cabaret club on the outskirts of Mayhem Town where he had attended a meeting at an inconspicuous table at the back of the room where no one would've seen them. The person, or rather the _elf_ , he'd been meeting had been most insistent about that. 

Glanni had pulled in more than a couple of favours to get her name. A junior communication something something, but one worth every penny and promise. She had access to official Elf Council documents, and better yet, she was willing to share them. For a price of course. There goes all of last month's ill gotten gains, Glanni thought ruefully, still, little brothers get what they need whatever the price.

Flinging the coat from his shoulders like a butterfly opening its wings, Glanni allowed himself to relax, drawing the prized data stick from his pocket. He flung the hat across the room and undid the top three buttons of his shirt, then undid another one for good measure. No sense in not being comfortable, and sexy, in his own… temporary accommodation.

He retrieved a brand new laptop, stolen of course, from the bag he hadn't bothered to unpack from the other day and booted it up. No data trail, no mess, just the way he liked it.  
The stick contained two files: 'Council Decrees' and 'Submitted Evidence', both dated three days ago.

Lounging back on the large bed and balancing the laptop on his elegantly crossed legs, Glanni clicked to view the Council Decrees. A few paragraphs of text appeared on the screen. He skimmed through them.

"Charges brought against Number Ten of the Order of Numbered Heroes and representative of the Heroic Legion of Sports Elves… blah blah blah… fucking hell these elves don't half go on… Failure to rid assigned town of fae invader - rude, thereby endangering the children… racist bastards, we don't _all_ steal kids… wilfully ensnared by fae seductions and frequent engagements in buggery. Nice one bro!"

Glanni scrolled down to where evidence had been listed.

"Thirty six instances of kidnapping or imprisonment, fifteen instances of sugar poisoning, four instances of near fatal traps, fifty three instances of sodomy - see video evidence."

Glanni raised an eyebrow, that was quite a list. He was tempted to skip straight to the video evidence but the next paragraph down caught his eye, it was labelled 'Sentencing'.

"Neglect of Duty - guilty, Wilful Disobedience and Treasonous Fraternisation - guilty and guilty! Sentence… thirty lashes ordered and administered by witness of the Elf Council. Huh."

Nasty, Robbie hadn't been lying about his elf being hurt.

Glanni clicked to open the video evidence file. A video popped up and began to play through.

It appeared to be some sort of amateur drone-footage porn only without any attempt at plot - niche, Glanni thought, but there's probably a market for it somewhere. Unmistakeably one of the stars of this film was his brother. The other figure was short, muscular and had a stupid moustache - clearly an elf.  
The first thing that struck Glanni was how clearly head over heels in love his brother was. He hadn't even put on a little glamour, not even a touch up here or a lift there, no. This was pure Robbie, baring himself freely, giving everything he had to the elf squirming beneath him. And the stupid elf seemed oblivious! Pah! Wretched species the lot of them!

The second thing that struck Glanni was how much this young elf reminded him of his own special hero. They had the same _stupid_ moustache, FUCK how he _hated_ that moustache. One of these days I shall cut it off! See how he likes me then! Glanni chuckled.

Truth be told his pursuit of Íþróttaálfurinn wasn't going exactly to plan. It had been years now, he'd been laying on thicker and thicker glamours but still the elf resisted! If he'd been even the slightest bit doubtful of himself Glanni might've wondered if the hero didn't find him attractive, but that couldn't be it.

Maybe Robbie had stumbled on the answer, maybe the way to end this obsession that existed between him and Íþróttaálfurinn was to approach him… honestly. Glanni curled his lip at the thought, how ghastly. Still, might be worth a shot.

The brother-and-elf porn video had finished while he had been wrapped up in thoughts of his own illusive conquest so he started it going from the beginning again and unbuttoned the fly of his tight, stylish trousers. If he squinted just so, he could almost pretend the figures writhing on the screen were himself and Íþróttaálfurinn. What an unexpected bonus.

  
  


* * *

Robbie awoke to a cold bed and a puddle of drool on his pillow. He felt as though he'd been asleep for days. He felt almost… well rested!  
Checking the clock the fae was shocked to discover that it was nearly lunchtime -THE NEXT DAY! What a time to pick to start sleeping, he thought!

The temperature of the other side of the bed suggested that Sportanap had been gone a long time, although Robbie could hardly blame him. Who in their right mind sleeps for TWENTY HOURS!?   
His stomach gurgled noisily, oh boy was he hungry! Robbie hastened to the kitchen area and pulled a large slice of cake from the fridge, it was his favourite one - the one he'd taught the pink girl and the cookie boy how to make, and settled into the armchair to eat it.

Just as he was raising the spoon to his lips, mouth watering in anticipation, the phone rang.

"Gah!" Robbie regretfully returned the spoon to the plate and picked up the receiver, "What!?"

"Is that any way to greet a brother calling with information Robbie?” The voice on the end of the line was smooth and drawling.

“Oh, hi Glanni”

“At great personal expense I have found out what happened to your dear little fuck toy.”

Robbie sat up, all pangs of hunger forgotten, "Yes?"

“To put it bluntly little brother, the elves are pissed that you're dicking him down every other night-”

“Glanni!” Robbie interrupted - his brother could be so crass sometimes. 

“Well, either pissed or jealous, could be either. Seems to me they've tried to dress it up in fancy words but the gist of it is they don't want one of their precious 'Numbered Heroes' getting pounded by the likes of us.”

“Glanni-”

“So whether it's some sort of example to others or just good old fashioned prejudice I don't know. And how on earth they found out about it…? He's not microchipped is he?”

Robbie sputtered, "Sportacus isn't a dog Gla-"

“Anyway they acted pretty swiftly on it. Thirty strokes of the best right there and then in the courtroom, and his status as a Numbered hero has been flagged as 'pending' for the time being. Looks like they're trying to force your boy out.”

“But they can't do that!” Robbie exclaimed in horror, “I won't let them!”

“Spoken like a true Glæpur!” The smooth voice chucked, “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Arhg!” Robbie yelled in frustration. 

“That's the spirit. Right I'd best be off.” Glanni sounded amused, “There's a new jewellers opening up tonight and it would be such a shame if all of the shiny things were still there for the opening ceremony. Ciao!”

Robbie slammed down the receiver. This was personal now. Not that it wasn’t before…

How dare some random assembly of old righteous pointy eared FREAKS torture and humiliate HIS hero for some concocted notion of… ‘purity’! Sportapure was the most sickeningly NICE creature he’d ever come across and yet _he’s_ the one they chose to destroy?

Robbie was angry. Scratch that, Robbie was _furious_!

But, on the plus side, if there was one thing he felt sure Sportaselfless would be first in line to fight, it was injustice. And this was the most unjust thing he’d ever heard of.

“I need to talk to him,” Robbie muttered, leaping up to seek out paper and a pen. “Ah HA!”

Robbie scribbled a quick note and practically ran to the mailbox.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sportacus had returned to his airship in the fly pod - he was still trying to avoid using the ladder, after what he hoped had been a successful morning. 

Feeling reinvigorated somewhat by a good night’s sleep and whatever Robbie had done to help the slashes on his back, Sportacus had been inspired to engage in a bit of light exercise with the children.

They’d all been overjoyed to see his return to form, and the friendly kickabout - the least likely activity to aggravate his injuries, had entertained them all morning.  
Stephanie had made a couple of discrete inquiries during the match, hoping to find out the reason for his odd behaviour, but each time Sportacus had quietly deflected the topic of conversation back to the game.

Back on his airship, sitting on the bed he hadn’t bothered to fold away for days now, the Hero Elf munched on some sportscandy. There had been no point tidying the bed away, as he hadn’t needed the extra space for exercises. In fact, he hadn’t done any training exercises since the journey with Íþrótt to the elf lands. Another black mark against his Number, he supposed.

Ever since he’d been a tiny elfling, all Sportacus had ever wanted to do was to follow his brother to the academy and become a Hero. He’d idolised Íþró, who was a good deal older than him and had always made it look so effortless. Íþró had been there for his first sit up, correcting his technique right from the word go! And he’d come to see him off on his first day at the academy. When he’d finally graduated, in that same white marble room which now haunted his dreams, Íþró had been right there, the proudest face in the room.

Now he didn’t know what to think. Íþró had seemingly been a part of this at every stage, submitting the spy camera stuff to the council, coming to arrest him personally and… well he’d been the one to… carry out the sentence.  
It felt like a betrayal. Although the thought that plagued Sportacus was that he couldn’t figure out _why_.

Normally if he’d been struggling with a problem, Sportacus would call his brother for advice. But… he doubted his calls would be welcome anymore. He felt alone, and not the least bit heroic.

Sportacus’s melancholy was interrupted by the familiar whoosh of a post tube arriving. He jumped up to catch it.

“I’ve got mail?”

Inside the cylinder was a simple handwritten message, scrawled onto a piece of angular purple paper.

_Come down. I need to change your bandages.  
We could have dinner or whatever._

_RR_

Sportacus’s heart clenched. A dinner invitation from Robbie. A few days ago he would’ve been ecstatic to receive such a note but circumstances had changed. He debated whether or not to go.

On the positive side, he did need his bandages changed and he had neither the supplies nor the ability to do it himself. He would also get to see Robbie again, the thought of which sent Sportacus’s heart beating a little faster.

On the other hand, an invitation to dinner sounded awfully like a date which the Council, should they be watching, would almost definitely frown upon.

Sportacus came to a decision. If he went down now it would be far too early for dinner, and he could leave as soon as Robbie had done the bandages. After all, tending to the injuries that prevented him in his duties couldn’t be disapproved of, could it?

Call him paranoid, but Sportacus felt increasingly as though someone had been watching him and felt the need to justify his actions to the air.

“I’m only going to get the dressings changed.” He addressed to no one in particular, and hopped into the pilot pod.

  
  



	10. Communication Is Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus and Robbie finally communicate.

Sportacus landed his pod just the other side of the billboard which marked the entrance to the fae’s underground lair. The hatch was open so the elf jumped straight in and landed in front of the orange armchair.

The armchair’s occupant jumped.

“Oh, you came.”

“It seemed sensible. I don’t have any medical supplies, not the right one’s anyway.” Sportacus was already walking towards the bedroom, slipping off his vest top. No sense in delaying things, the sooner he was patched up, the sooner he could leave and the less incriminating it would all look.

He glanced back over his shoulder to where the fae was still sitting in his chair, a slightly shocked expression on his pointed face.

“I presumed… the bedroom?”

Robbie smirked, “You presume correctly Sportapurve. I didn’t get anything out yet though, I wasn’t sure if- when you’d be coming.”

“Oh, well, no time like the present.”

When Sportacus saw the fae begin to follow him he continued his journey to Robbie’s bedroom and stripped off his undershirt as well. For the first time since his impromptu trip home his white undershirt was not stained with blood. That was encouraging.

Sportacus slipped off his shoes and positioned himself on the bed, resting his chin against his folded arms.  
Behind him he could hear Robbie bustling about in the bathroom.

“I hope you don’t mind. I asked m- a friend to look into things. To see if we can’t work some of this situation out.” Robbie called through from the other room.

Sportacus tensed. He didn’t want Robbie getting dragged into this, it was already too much of a messy situation. Before he could answer, however, the fae emerged from the bathroom, medical supplies in hand and continued speaking.

“We’re of the opinion that you’ve been set up.”

Sportacus remembered Íþrótt’s words to him in the cell below the citadel. ‘ _A pawn in someone else’s game…_ ’

“Yes,” he agreed, “The thought had occurred to me.”

Sportacus felt the bed dip as Robbie knelt onto it and began gently undoing the maze of bandages. There was a slight pulling sensation as the last ones came away. He hissed at the painful sting.

The elf craned his neck, trying to see.

“How does it look?”

Robbie pushed his head down playfully, although his voice was more serious.  
“It could be better. Looks like the salve is doing its job but it’ll take a while to heal completely.”

“Is it going to scar?” Sportacus enquired nervously. The thought that this incident might remain with him physically for the rest of his life was not a pleasant one. Although he hadn’t yet seen the damage to be able to assess the possibility himself.

He felt the warm dabbing of a wet cloth as Robbie began to wash the wounds.

“Almost certainly. But we can speed up the healing process.”

The two of them fell silent as Robbie concentrated on not hurting the elf further, and Sportacus contemplated the implications of the fae’s words.  
Soon the sensations changed as Robbie began laying the cool salve in lines across his back. He could feel it seeping into his skin, tingling and soothing as the magic did it’s work.

Efficiently Robbie secured fresh bandages over the area and started gathering up his things.  
“I’m going to need to order some more of these…” he muttered to himself.

Sportacus pushed himself up, swinging his feet down onto the floor.

“Oh no you don’t,” the deep voice echoed from behind him, “Not before I check your wrists.”

Robbie stepped into Sportacus’s field of view and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands into his own. Sportacus allowed the fae to slip his bracers off. The raw red marks encircling his wrists didn’t hurt at all, but stood out vividly against his pale skin. Perhaps the worst thing about them was that they told a story, anyone that saw them would be able to make a pretty good guess as to their cause.

“Racist cowardly fucks.” Robbie spat, holding the elf’s wrists tenderly in his large hands.

Sportacus blinked in surprise.

“Come again?”

“Doing all this to you because they don’t like what we’re doing. Don’t _approve_ of our relationship.”

Sportacus blinked again. Robbie knew? Wait.  
“Relationship?”

Robbie looked up at him, grey eyes staring straight into his own blue ones.

“Well you accepted the gifts I left…” the fae began, “the daisies and sweet berries, so I thought maybe you liked me but then you never brought the flowers with you when you came to visit me so I thought maybe I was moving too fast.”

Sportacus reeled, “Too fast? Robbie, we have sex regularly!”

“Yes but that doesn’t mean anything.” The fae said dismissively, wafting his hand. 

Sportacus replied quietly, “Well it means something to me.”

“What does it mean to you?”

He blinked, “Well, I like you. I hoped that by having sex with you we would grow closer together. But you never seemed to want to come for jogs in the forest or swimming in the lake with me so I thought maybe you were just... using me to blow off steam.”

Robbie smacked his hand to his forehead. “Sportastupid! I was flirting with you the whole time! I never ever used magic to hide myself, I was a perfect gentleman and fucked you outdoors so that we started things on even terms. I even brought you _sportscandy_! Everything I did was straight out of a cheesy romance novel!”

Sportacus paused, “A fae romance novel?”

“Of course.” Robbie nodded. 

The elf silently wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. How could he have been so stupid not to realise Robbie might flirt in a different way. Of course he wouldn’t’ve realised that elves court each other with freshwater swimming and private frolics in the forest. 

“Oh. I didn’t realise.” He felt mortified. 

“So…you like me?” Robbie’s question was hesitant, but his tone was hopeful. 

Sportacus felt the words he had been consumed by rise up and escape him with all the joy in his heart propelling them forward.   
“Robbie, I _love_ you.”

“You love me? Robbie spoke slowly. 

The elf wrung his hands together suddenly worried.   
“Is that ok?”

“Oh Sportalove. _I_ love _you_!”

The next thing Sportacus knew, the fae’s lips were covering his own in a deep, passionate kiss. He had kissed Robbie before of course, many times, but this one blew them all away.

When eventually they parted to draw breath Sportacus chuckled, resting his forehead against Robbie’s.

“Talk about cultural differences. I had no idea you were flirting with me.”

Robbie snorted, “I can’t believe we’ve shagged so many times and you still didn’t realise.” Their breath mingled together until Sportacus began to pull away slightly. Robbie tightened his grip and continued, “Please don’t rush off. I’ve missed you.”

Sportacus sighed.   
“I didn’t want to avoid you Robbie, it’s just… they’re thinking about taking away my Number. If that happens, I’ll have to leave Lazy Town and I won’t be a hero anymore. I thought if they see me spending time with you it might make them decide to do it. Being a Hero is all I’ve ever wanted Robbie.”   
He looked up at the fae, taking in the large pointed chin and pronounced brow staring down. 

“You’ll always be a hero to me.” Robbie’s voice was low and deliberate. “And there’s no one here, no one will ever know if you and I spend time together.”

Sportacus bit his lip.

“The Council… they had footage of us Robbie. Lots of videos of us. Every time we’d ever got together up on the surface.”

“What? How?”

Sportacus’s voice wavered.   
“I don’t know how exactly, but I think my brother had something to do with it. They said he gave them the footage.”

“Your brother?”

“Yes,” Sportacus gulped, the memories of his brother suddenly complicated in his mind in a way they hadn’t been before, “he’s a Numbered Hero like me, Number Eight.”

Robbie considered, “And what? He was defending you, showing that we were just having fun right?”

“No, um… actually. He was the one that did this.” Sportacus gestured over his shoulder to where the thick bandages pressed against his skin. 

“What?”

Sportacus began to cry, “He looked at me with such hatred Robbie, like he didn’t even want to know me anymore.”

Robbie cradled Sportacus into his chest, removing the stupid blue hat and stroking his hair.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to offend him. He was always there for me when I was little, always saying he’d protect me. He told everyone that I had failed at being a Hero.”

Robbie held Sportacus as he sobbed. A few minutes ago he hadn’t even known that Sportacus had a brother. Now he hated him with the passion of a thousand suns. The moment he next had a moment alone he had a good mind to call Glanni and put a hit out on this ‘Number Eight’.  
Betrayal of a family member was just about one of the worst things a fae could do and he felt Sportacus’s grief intensely. If Glanni ever rounded on him like that he didn’t know what he would do.

“Sportalove, I know we’re both idiots who’ve only just managed to communicate our feelings, but know this; you are my family now and I will never abandon you. Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

Sportacus kissed him fiercely, his lips tasting salty from the tears.

“I love you Robbie, I love you so much.”

“I love you too Sportacus.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The working title for this chapter was 'Communication is Key'. I love these useless boys, they're so in love. It's wonderful <3
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left a comment or kudos. It's keeping me going!
> 
> Edit: 23/12/2020 Chapter title changed back to 'Communication is Key'


	11. Glamourless Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie does something he never thought he'd do. Ithro does something he hoped he'd never do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious dubcon warning for this chapter folks. I chose to tag it as dubcon not noncon for a reason, but be warned, it's very dubcon.
> 
> As promised, we're catching up with Ithro...

Robbie waited until Sportacus had left to play football with the noisy children before calling Glanni.

“Glaepur Glamping, weekend escapes for fun loving couples. Rikki speaking, how may I help you?”

“Glanni it’s me.”

Immediately the voice on the end of the line changed from professional to familiar, “Oh good, you ok?”

“Glaepur Glamping? Really?” Robbie scoffed. 

“What? It’s a good scheme.”

“If you say so.” Robbie took a deep breath. “Anyway I have great news.”

“Go on…”

“Sportacus and I are together!” He said excitedly. 

“About fucking finally.” He could hear Glanni grinning on the other end of the phone. “You two were sickeningly cutesy in that cut price porno.”

“Cut price…? Wait, you don’t mean this supposed video of me and Sportacus that is _apparently_ now public?” Robbie clutched at his heart, remembering Sportacus’s comment about the council seeing some ‘footage’. 

“The very same.” Glanni clarified smugly, “I’ve got to say I’m impressed little brother, you two certainly make an imaginative pair!”

Robbie chose to ignore him.   
“Shut up Glanni. I found out more.”

“Oh yes?”

“Sportacus told me that it was his brother who gave that video to the elf council, and that he was the one responsible for…” the memory of the blood soaked wounds flashed before his eyes, “...for hurting him.”

“You mean..?”

“Yeah, Sportacus is pretty cut up about it. No pun intended!!” Robbie panicked, cursing his poor choice of words.

Glanni giggled, “Yeah, I'm not surprised. You want me to kidnap his brother for you?”

“That might not be very easy Glanni, he’s another fippity muscle hero.”

Robbie heard his brother pause, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Did he say which number?”

“Yeah, Eight.”

“Number Eight you say?”

Something about the way Glanni had said it gave Robbie cause to wonder.   
“What, do you know him?”

“Yeah I know him…” Glanni admitted, “...you could say I know him _intimately_. You leave him to me.”

Robbie gulped, of course Glanni would know the bastard!   
“Don’t do anything stupid Glanni.”

“Oh little brother, of course I will. Give your hero a kiss from me.” 

Robbie growled, “Shut up Glanni!”

He could hear a kiss being blown from the other end of the phone.   
“Love you too!”

Robbie put the phone down, feeling somewhat apprehensive. Conversations with Glanni usually had that effect. But the wheels had been set in motion, once Glanni had decided to do whatever he was going to do it would be near impossible to stop him. And Robbie found that he didn’t particularly care if this Number Eight was the worse for it.

Robbie started up the ladder intending to join the group over at the sports field. He wasn’t going to play, but he also didn’t want to let his boyfriend out of his sight.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Sportacus was starting to panic. The children were incredibly boisterous, and having been warmed up by the gentle football game that morning, now were hankering after a more strenuous activity.

"Can we play tennis huh? Sportacus? Can we? I bet you could hit the ball all the way out of Lazy Town!"

"I want to play baseball with MY new baseball bat!"

"I want to play hockey!"

"You just want to trip people up Trixie!"

Sportacus put his hands up, trying to placate the squabbling kids.

"Hey now, there's no need to argue. You can play all of those games! You only need to agree on which one to play _first_."

"Which one do you want to play Sportacus?" Ziggy was bouncing around excitedly.

Sportacus considered, a gentle kick about was one thing but all of the games the kids suggested required a lot of flexibility and strength in the upper torso. Swinging a tennis racket, hockey stick or baseball bat would almost certainly tear open the healing wounds on his back, and he didn't want that. But he hated to disappoint the children.

"I don't mind which one, but I thought for today I might try being the referee!"

"You mean you don't want to play?" Ziggy sniffed.

"Sportacus?" Stephanie tilted her head, regarding him. "You're not still sad are you? We thought Robbie fixed you yesterday?"

Sportacus crouched down, bringing himself to the same level and the children that clustered around him. Before he could open his mouth, however, a familiar villainous voice boomed out from behind him.

"Pah! What makes you think I would ever do anything so GOOD?" 

"Robbie Rotten!" The kids all chorused in the way they always did whenever Robbie surprised them.

"Now you leave the jumping kangaroo alone and go play over there… go on!" Robbie flapped his hands at them, trying to shoo them away.

"But we wanted Sportacus to play with us!" Ziggy moaned.

"Yeah!" The other children agreed.

"Well Sportadelicate can't play with you right now." Robbie folded his arms.

"Robbie-" Sportacus began before Trixie interrupted him.

"Why not!?"

Robbie glared down at the pig tailed girl. "He needs to rest."

Stephanie regarded the two adults thoughtfully.  
"Sportacus, are you hurt?"

Sportacus crouched down again and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  
"Only a little, but it's true I probably shouldn't play sports for a while. But, why don't you ask Robbie to play with you instead?"

The children all jumped up in excitement.

"That's a great idea!"

Sportacus turned to the fae to see a look of absolute horror across his face.

"Robbie, would you like to play with us?" Stephanie asked, offering the tall man a tennis racket.

Sportacus spoke quietly to the other man.  
"Please Robbie? For me?"

The fae rolled his eyes and muttered something about emotional blackmail, but accepted the offered racket from Stephanie.

"Alright." The kids cheered, "But just one game! I can't spare much time away from all my villainous schemes!"

Sportacus grinned at the sight of the fae being led over to the tennis courts by the excitable children, fielding questions about his upcoming plans.  
A lot had happened in a short space of time.  
He and Robbie had both said 'I love you' to each other. Did that mean they were dating? The elf supposed so.

He hopped up onto a low wall and began balancing along it, trying to appease his natural instincts telling him to move.  
On the tennis court his boyfriend was making the children laugh by pretending to fall into the net every time he swung at the ball.

'Boyfriend'. Sportacus smiled, that had a nice ring to it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Glanni Glæpur stood in front of the Old Mayhem Town Bank, sirens blaring and lights flashing behind him. He’d sent the money away with the henchmen he’d brought along - he’d already gone to all the effort to actually rob the bank he was sure as shit going to keep the money, and now he was waiting for a certain someone to show up.

Glanni had been very careful to be slightly indiscreet when setting up this job, a word to the right people - or rather the wrong people, here and there, and he was surprised that the hero hadn’t crashed the operation already.  
Maybe standing directly in front of the bank was a bit too obvious. Glanni slunk around to the grimy alleyway that ran down the side of the grandiose building only to find it disappointingly mundane. Great! Overflowing rubbish bins and used condoms, very atmospheric.

With only the dull thud sound of boots hitting the floor as a warning, Glanni lurched as he was suddenly shoved roughly up against the wall. A pair of strong, muscular hands grabbed his wrists and twisted his arms painfully up behind his back.

“Finally. I was starting to think you’d stood me up.”

Glanni felt himself being spun around, strong hands pinning him to the wall by his shoulders. The strong-jawed Íþróttaálfurinn was inches away from his face, snarling at him.

“You look terrible.”

The elf _did_ look terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes which were red, as though he hadn’t slept. His moustache was drooping and crooked, and his breath stank of liquor.

“What? No clever words? No magic spells?” Íþróttaálfurinn’s voice was rasping and bitter, “No disgusting promises?”

Glanni shrugged. “Nope, it’s just me tonight baby. Au naturale Glæpur glam.” He flashed his white teeth with a wide smile.

Íþróttaálfurinn huffed above him, increasing the pressure on his shoulders causing the rough brickwork to dig into his back through the thin catsuit.

“Just try it. Give me one excuse…” Íþróttaálfurinn’s voice was thick with emotion, desperate even.

“Or what?”

Glanni licked his lips, and looked up at the hero through his eyelashes. 

There was a beat of silence between them as Íþróttaálfurinn’s gaze burned into him. The fae leaned his head forward ever so slightly and whispered, his lips inches away from the hero’s.

“What do you want to do?”

Íþróttaálfurinn snarled and then kissed him. 

Their lips met with such force that Glanni’s head smashed into the bricks behind him and stars appeared to float across the inside of his eyelids. The elf’s lips were desperate and demanding, his tongue invading Glanni’s mouth, the flavour of stale whiskey swirling in with it.  
Glanni moaned into the kiss.

He wriggled an arm out from where it was sandwiched between him and the wall. The movement pushed his hips out, rubbing the hardening lump in his trousers up against the hero. Beneath his tight yellow uniform trousers, Glanni could feel that the elf was similarly solid.

As soon as he had wriggled it free, Glanni felt his arm being pinned over his head against the rough wall. The elf’s other hand came up to tangle roughly in his short hair.  
The kiss broke as Íþróttaálfurinn tugged his head to the side, bearing his neck.

Glanni smirked at him.

“If I’d’ve known it was just a case of letting you take cha-”

Íþróttaálfurinn smacked his head against the wall again. Glanni let out a pained ‘oof’.

The hero growled through clenched teeth.   
“Why are you doing this to me?”

The angle his head was being held at meant that Glanni couldn’t look directly into Íþróttaálfurinn’s eyes but he could well imagine the desperate expression. 

“I’m not doing anything to you!” He squirmed but Íþróttaálfurinn had him held fast.   
“Look at you. You’re completely in charge. I’m entirely at your mercy…”

Glanni panted the words, chest heaving against the solid breastplate. He spoke softly.   
“The hero has caught his villain... the real question is... what are you going to do with me?”

Íþróttaálfurinn snarled. 

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Keeping the hold on Glanni’s wrist and hair, Íþróttaálfurinn dragged him onto the ground and pinned him there with a knee pressing down on his lower back. 

Glanni felt a sudden breeze across his arse. Ah! He’d found the flap. Glanni grinned, he knew that insisting upon an arse flap on his catsuit would come in useful one day. 

He yelped as something wet hit him and started dripping down between his cheeks. 

“Did you just _spit_ on m-”

He gasped, words cut short as he was interrupted by something large and blunt pushing into him.

“Fuck!” 

Above him, Íþróttaálfurinn growled.

“You worthless, low-life, criminal,” Íþróttaálfurinn drew out and slammed back in, “ _infuriating_ , fae scumbag.”

The elf began pounding into him at a cracking pace. Glanni’s whole body rocked with the momentum of each thrust. With only spit easing the way, the intrusion was painful and overwhelming. And utterly thrilling. 

“What a- _healthy_ way to release your- ah! _Pent up_ aggression!”

By way of reply Glanni got a mouthful of alleyway grime as his head was roughly pressed down, effectively silencing him. 

“Your kind are all the same. Lying, manipulative, perverted _shits_!”   
Íþróttaálfurinn slammed into him again. Boy was he going to be sore in the morning. 

“You’re a disgrace… you deserve to-” the hero came with a grunt, “ _suffer_ the consequences…”

The hand tangled in Glanni’s hair loosened and he forced his head up,  
“You sure you’re still talking about me?”

Íþróttaálfurinn’s hold on him disappeared completely as Glanni felt him slide out of his abused hole. He rolled over onto his back. Above him the elf was tucking himself back into his trousers, cheeks red, breathing heavily. 

Glanni propped himself up on his elbows in a relaxed position as though he were on the kingsize bed of an expensive hotel suite rather than the filthy floor of a city back alley. He raised an eyebrow. 

“Well now. That wasn’t very _heroic_.”

Íþróttaálfurinn stiffened, whole body tensing. Then, without so much as a backward glance, the elf took off, running and flipping away at top speed. He rounded the corner and was gone. 

“Hey! You forgot to arrest me!” Glanni shouted after him.

“Rude.” he muttered, undoing the fly at the front of his catsuit and taking his hard length into his hand, “Didn’t even stay until the end.”

Glanni quickly finished himself off, wishing that this was the first time he’d ever had to wank in an alley.   
By the time the police arrived, the only evidence of their encounter were a couple of small stains amongst the dirt.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the aftermath of that!


	12. The Prince And The Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glanni tells a story.

Íþróttaálfurinn was perched on a stool at an anonymous bar on the wrong side of Mayhem Town nursing a large whiskey. He felt vaguely ridiculous wearing human clothes, particularly the beanie hat which he had pulled down over his ears, but it was necessary. He didn't deserve to be a hero tonight.

In only a few short days, Íþróttaálfurinn had come to hate himself. He had destroyed any relationship he had ever had with his brother. Even though he had initially acted with the best of motives, he'd allowed anger to overtake him and things had gotten out of hand.

And now he himself had just committed the same act that he had condemned Sportacus for. He'd given in to temptation and fucked Glanni Glæpur. After years of resisting, he'd finally caved. And he hated himself for it. He hated himself for wanting it, for lusting after the fae since the day he first met him.  
He hated himself for enjoying what he'd done to Glanni in that alleyway, trying to punish him in place of the fae who'd corrupted his brother, and succeeding only in punishing himself.

Íþróttaálfurinn knew what he should do. He should turn himself over to the Elf Council, renounce his Number and face the consequences. But he knew in his heart he wouldn't. What did that make him? A hypocrite? A coward?

Not the qualities of a Hero.

"I'll have whatever he's having."

A devastatingly familiar voice purred to the barman from somewhere to the right of him. He turned to look.  
Glanni Glæpur was leaning casually against the bar. He had changed out of his black catsuit and was now draped in a long purple dress with a low sweeping neckline, revealing much of his chest.

He caught the tumbler of whiskey the barman slid his way, his chunky, bejewelled bracelet clinking on the polished countertop. He indicated to Íþróttaálfurinn.

"And another for my friend."

"I'm not your friend Glæpur." Íþróttaálfurinn grunted as the barman placed another drink in front of him.

"Call me Glanni." The fae's voice was soft. "I want to tell you a story."

Íþróttaálfurinn finished the remainder of his first drink in a single gulp and picked up the one that Glanni had ordered him.

"Once upon a time there was a Prince who lived in a grand palace..."

The elf groaned into his drink.

"This Prince was reclusive, a bit of a mystery to his people, and devilishly handsome." Glanni winked at his companion before continuing.

"One day a handsome Knight arrived in the Prince's kingdom, riding a big white horse. The people of the kingdom all rushed to the newcomer, and finding him to be a sickeningly good person, they begged him to stay. At first the Prince resented the Knight because-"

"Is there a point to this story or are you just here to taunt me?" Íþróttaálfurinn interrupted.

Glanni grinned, "Oh there's a point. Don't interrupt my masterpiece. Now where was I?" He cleared his throat before continuing.  
"At first the Prince resented the Knight because the people loved the Knight more than they loved him so he hatched a plan. Every day he would summon the Knight to his palace and send him on a quest into the forest on an errand that would keep him out of the kingdom until the sun set. Every evening when the Knight returned he brought the Prince a gift from the forest. It was always the same gift - a single red rose."

Íþróttaálfurinn finished his second whiskey and signalled to the barman for another. This story was enough to drive any elf to drink. Glanni hadn't even paused.

"Whilst the Prince had initially enjoyed the time the Knight spent far away in the forest, he soon found himself yearning for the moment the Knight would return to present him with the rose. It wasn't long before the Prince realised that actually, he had fallen in love."

Íþróttaálfurinn snorted.

"What the Prince didn't know was that since the first day he had been summoned to the palace, the Knight had loved him too. Both of them loved each other, but neither knew how to express it. The Prince kept accepting the Knight's roses and the Knight kept fulfilling the Prince's quests until-"

"And let me guess, one day the Knight fucked the Prince behind a bank and was beheaded the next day!"   
Íþróttaálfurinn thudded his glass down onto the bar and a few drops spilled over the rim.

Glanni rolled his eyes and signalled for another drink, "Actually I had a whole bit about an evil dragon but I'm guessing story time is now over."

"If you're here to stay you might as well take a seat." The elf gestured to the stool next to his.

Glanni shifted his weight uncomfortably, "Actually I'd rather stand if it's all the same to you."

Íþróttaálfurinn looked up sharply, meeting Glanni's unwavering gaze. He flinched and went back to studying his drink, feeling ashamed.

His voice was quiet, "Do you hate me for what I did to you?"

Glanni laughed.

"For the ride of my life? Lover boy, if I was going to hate you for anything I could think of better reasons."

Íþróttaálfurinn looked at him in surprise. Glanni's tone had been light, almost flippant, but his eyes were hard.

The fae placed his glass down on the bar and reached for Íþróttaálfurinn's hand which he took into his own.

"Come… let me show you how the story ends…"

Glanni tugged on the elf's hand, inviting him to follow. Íþróttaálfurinn allowed himself to be led through the bar and out a side door.

They were in another alleyway. Great.

Glanni span around and brought Íþróttaálfurinn's hand to his lips, gently kissing his knuckles.  
Suddenly he paused and pushed back the sleeve of the elf's jacket.  
Encircling the pale elven wrist was a thin pink ring, only about a centimetre thick.

"Don't look so surprised." Íþróttaálfurinn remarked bitterly, "You were the one who put those cuffs on me."

Íþróttaálfurinn's wrists bore the marks of the iron handcuffs he had had made with Glanni in mind, only for the fae to turn the tables on him a few days later.

Glanni held up his own slender wrist and slipped off the sparkling bracelet, showing a similar pink scar.

"We match."

Glanni took both of Íþróttaálfurinn's hands into his own and put both pairs of bared wrists together. Four identical rings of pink, tight skin.

"The things we've done to each other…"

The elf looked up and found himself gazing into a set of piercing dark eyes.

The fae leaned in slowly and captured his lips in a gentle kiss.

A part of Íþróttaálfurinn's brain screamed at him that this was wrong, but another, larger, part wanted this. He had wanted Glanni for a very long time and at last they were meeting as equals, not enemies. Here they weren't a hero and a villain, just Íþró and Glanni. Finally.

Íþróttaálfurinn deepened the kiss, surging forward, pressing their bodies together. Suddenly the romance dissolved into desperation and their hands were all over each other, tearing at clothes in search of skin.  
The elf's back hit the wall as Glanni palmed him through his jeans. He quickly grew hard under Glanni's skilful manipulations. 

He moaned as Glanni broke the kiss and sucked a bruise onto his neck. He ran his hands down the back of Glanni's dress, enjoying the feeling of the satiny fabric under his fingers and the firm, warm flesh beneath it.

"You were wrong... about the ending… of the story."

Glanni punctuated his words with little butterfly kisses along the elf's strong jawline.  
"The mistake you made... was assuming that you and I... were the Prince and Knight."

He began kissing his way down the other side of Íþróttaálfurinn's neck.  
"Actually... the Prince is my brother... and the Knight is the man he loves very much."

Íþróttaálfurinn felt the sharp point of a knife press into the skin of his throat. Glanni was staring at him coldly, his expression determined. He spoke slowly and deliberately.

"My brother is Robbie Rotten. Lazy Town is his kingdom and the Knight is a rather sweet little elf called Sportacus. Heard of him?"

Íþróttaálfurinn felt the point of the knife twist against his throat, forcing his chin upwards. He choked out a whispered reply, "Yes."

"You see," Glanni continued, "My brother loves Sportacus and Sportacus loves him back. That makes him family. My family."

Íþróttaálfurinn saw the fae's eyes flash dangerously. His tone was deadly serious.

"You've hurt my family _elf_. Consider this a warning. No one hurts my family and gets away with it."

In a flash the butt of the knife connected painfully with the side of Íþróttaálfurinn's head and he fell backwards, crying out. By the time he'd righted himself, Glanni had disappeared.

He stumbled back into the bar and swallowed the remainder of the whiskey he had left there. A drop of blood fell from somewhere near his temple, staining the sleeve of his jacket.

So it had been a set up.  
Of course Glanni turning up like that was too good to be true. Íþróttaálfurinn berated himself for ever allowing himself to fall for such an obvious ruse.  
The whole fairy-tale story should've tipped him off. How could he be so stupid!?

He ran his face through his hands, rubbing at his tired eyes.

Glanni had said that Sportacus and his rotten fae were in love. Could that be true? Íþróttaálfurinn didn't know what to think. Perhaps he needed to go to Lazy Town to see for himself.

He finished the remainder of Glanni's abandoned whiskey in a single gulp and got up to leave. Yes, perhaps a visit to Lazy Town was in order.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Glanni. I LOVE writing him, he's such a scene-stealer! 
> 
> Do I headcanon Ithro as an alcoholic... yes? Do I have evidence to support this... no? Am I sorry? Not even a little bit XD
> 
> I really love this chapter, I'm so proud of it!
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who has left comments and kudos. Honestly your kind words are so inspiring and I'm so, so happy that you're enjoying this story. I didn't expect anyone would be interested to read it!  
> Rest assured, this fic WILL be finished. The whole story is written, I'm just uploading as I edit. <3


	13. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Íþróttaálfurinn has a confession to make.

Íþróttaálfurinn spied the distant rooftops of Lazy Town through his telescope.

He angled the balloon towards the familiar lozenge-shaped form of his brother's high tech airship and drifted in closer on the prevailing wind. As he came within range of the town he began to be able to make out a group of figures congregated on the sports field. It looked like a group of children playing volleyball! Íþróttaálfurinn smiled at the happy sight.

His smile turned to a frown, however, when a tall figure in a peculiar striped suit jogged into the focus of his telescope. That was the fae from the video - the one his brother was… the one that was involved with his brother.

The fae appeared to be holding a volleyball which he'd retrieved from where it had been thrown out of bounds of the court. Íþróttaálfurinn watched in amazement as the fae collected himself, and then served the ball across the net where it was returned by one of the children!  
This fae was playing sports with the children of Lazy Town?

He focused the telescope on the surrounding area, searching for any sign of his brother. He located Sportacus fairly quickly.  
His brother was squatting on top of a low wall watching the game. Every time anyone scored a point he would jump on the spot and clap but for a sports elf he was uncharacteristically still.

They were all so absorbed in their game that it appeared none of them had noticed his balloon.

Íþróttaálfurinn piloted to within a close distance of the assembly, glad that the sun was shining towards him so he wasn't casting a warning shadow over them.  
He let down the rope ladder and dropped the last few feet.

He landed between Sportacus and the volleyball game, facing his brother.

Sportacus's face drained and he jumped down from the wall immediately, calling out.  
"Robbie, get the kids inside now!"

Íþróttaálfurinn heard a questioning noise from behind him.

"NOW!"

Íþróttaálfurinn turned to see the lanky fae herding the children away from the playing field and towards a quaint house with a curved roof. They were looking back fearfully but went where they were bidden, perhaps sensing the tension in the air.

Suddenly Sportacus stepped round into his field of view, getting between him and the children.

"I won't let you hurt them Íþró, not any of them."

Íþróttaálfurinn spoke accusingly, "You're really going to let that fae walk away with those children?"

"I TRUST him Íþró!" Sportacus's anger was palpable, "Which is more than I can say for you!"

Behind Sportacus the fae had succeeded in herding the children into the house and was now returning as each of their little faces appeared at the window, watching them.

The fae raised an accusatory finger at him as he approached with rapid strides.

"Is THIS your BASTARD excuse for a brother?"

Sportacus turned and threw himself up against the fae's chest, halting his advancement.

"Please don't Robbie I don't want you to get hurt!" Sportacus pleaded, looking between the two of them fearfully, "Robbie please, I love you!"

Íþróttaálfurinn slumped, "So it is true…" he muttered, allowing himself to fall to the ground, propping himself up against the low wall. He buried his head in his hands.  
Everything fell apart; the arguments of the Council, what he'd thought he'd seen on the video, everything. Now here in front of him was his innocent little brother… whom he had…

Íþróttaálfurinn sobbed as all the anger, jealousy and loathing flowed out of him, leaving him grief and guilt to overtake him instead.

Through the tears he heard the muffled sounds of exchanged words and footsteps as one of them walked away. He then registered the presence of the other person sitting down next to him and cautiously patting his arm. He looked up. A blurry Sportacus peered at him with apprehensive concern.

"Brother…" Íþróttaálfurinn began, voice thick with emotion, "I have wronged you…"

He drew in a deep, shuddering, breath, "I was blinded by my own failings… and I allowed anger to guide me when I should've listened to reason. I will never forgive myself for what I have done to you," he sobbed, "I have condemned you for a crime that was mine to commit…"

Beside him Sportacus frowned in confusion, "Perhaps you'd better start from the beginning Íþró."

Íþróttaálfurinn took in a shuddering breath and began his tale.

"Back when I was Number Ten, and stationed here in Lazy Town, I came across a fae called Glanni Glæpur. He caused some trouble and I ran him out of town. Ever since then he has plagued me. Every town I'm posted to he follows me there, popping up every few weeks with a new scheme. I've arrested him more times than I can count.”

He paused, collecting himself before continuing.

“At first his glamours were subtle, just enough to worm his way out of trouble or to distract me long enough to escape. I… he discovered that using seductive glamours were harder for me to resist.”

Íþróttaálfurinn dipped his head in shame.

“I lusted after him with every fibre of my being and he tried everything he could to exploit that. Every time I caught up to him his glamour would be stronger, more tempting. And every time I resisted!  
He grew bolder, kidnapping me, hurting me, anything to get me to succumb to his glamour. But I never gave in, not once!”

“But what does this have to do with me?” Sportacus asked quietly. 

Íþróttaálfurinn wiped his eyes and continued,   
“One night I called you up to speak to you. You weren't in bed so your airship gave me access to the cameras. I saw you with that fae and I snapped. I thought he had done what Glanni had done, covered you in magic until you could hardly think your own thoughts. I was so angry! And I was jealous, I suppose, that you were doing what I had been resisting for years.  
So I went to the Council, told them that you had been compromised by a fae and they told me to bring you in.  
I was so angry Sportacus I couldn't even bare to look at you.”

Sportacus sucked in a breath and when he spoke his voice was disappointed but not reproachful.   
“You could've just asked me Íþró.”

“I wish I had. By the stars I wish I had.” Íþróttaálfurinn looked up to the bright sky before continuing.  
“You know the rest, until you left the room to get tested. I should've stopped then when I heard there was no glamour on you. I should've stopped.”

Íþró broke down into sobs, rocking back and forth slightly where he sat. He could feel Sportacus rubbing soothing circles on his back, although the warmth of his hand didn't penetrate the leather breastplate. It made him feel worse.

“Number Three tried to persuade the Council that you were innocent but most of them weren't convinced. They asked me what my opinion was, as the person who brought them the information in the first place.”

He paused, lip trembling. Tears ran freely down his cheeks.

"I told them that you didn't deserve to be a hero!" He wailed, and sobbed openly.

Sportacus gasped, and the soothing hand disappeared from his back.

"And then I hurt you, worse still I _wanted_ to hurt you. I thought I had done the right thing, the whole Council was there…  
I went back to Mayhem Town telling myself I was protecting you by helping you snap out of whatever hold this fae had over you. And then…”

He paused, closing his eyes, willing the events of yesterday to change even though he knew the past was set in stone.

“And then I saw Glanni again. I don't know why, but he didn't use any glamour, none at all. It was like I could think clearly for the first time in his presence for years… and I still wanted him. I… did something I'm not proud of… I… I forced myself on Glanni behind a bank he'd just robbed…” His voice became flat as he finished.   
“A hollow victory.” The Hero elf whispered. 

Sportacus looked vaguely scandalized, "So why are you here?"

Íþróttaálfurinn continued, "Glanni came to me that evening to tell me that you and your fae were in love and that seeing as your fae is his brother, that meant I had wronged his family… and that he would make me pay.  
I came here to see for myself, and I see now that it's true. I've never seen a fae play so honestly with children before. And he protected them… from me.”

Íþróttaálfurinn hung his head. Now that his tale was told he felt exhausted and slightly lightheaded.

"You self-centred prick!" The pointy faced fae leapt out from behind the wall and stood facing the two elves, arms folded.  
"You come all the way here to make your little speech and you haven't even tried to apologise! Do you have any idea what kind of a state you left him in!?"

Íþróttaálfurinn blanched as images of flayed red flesh floated up from the memories of his time in the Council Chamber.

"You're right," he whispered. Taking a deep breath he turned sideways and took up his brother's hands, squeezing them with his own.  
Sportacus's lip trembled as he looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Brother. Words cannot express the regret I feel for what I have done to you. If I could go back and take every moment of pain in your stead, I would a hundred times over. I do not expect your forgiveness as I do not deserve it. But I am sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

The fae threw his hands into the air angrily, "You think that's enough to fix things? That saying 'I'm sorry' is just going to-"

"Robbie stop." Sportacus continued to hold Íþróttaálfurinn's gaze, never once breaking eye contact. "That's enough for me." He sighed.  
"I don't know how long it will take me Íþró, but I will try to forgive you."

Íþróttaálfurinn cried as Sportacus leaned in to hug him. He murmured into the blue-clad shoulder. "I don't deserve it… I don't deserve it."

Sportacus shushed him, once again rubbing soothing circles across his armour.

They stayed in that position for a while, Íþróttaálfurinn sniffling into his brother's shoulder. At some point the fae had gotten bored and wandered back over to the house where the children peered out at them still.

Sportacus broke the silence one he was satisfied that his brother had stopped crying.

"So what now Íþró?"

Íþróttaálfurinn raised his head. "What would you have me do?"

Sportacus considered. "You could stay in Lazy Town for a few days. I can't properly play with the kids yet, and Robbie tries his best but he's not really cut out to act as my replacement."

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded, "If that is what you wish, then I will stay."

"Good!" Sportacus jumped up, grabbing his older brother by the hand and dragging him to his feet. "Let me introduce you!"

He ran over to the house, waving his arms excitedly.

"Kids, kids! It's ok to come out! I would like for you to meet someone."

Tentatively the children emerged, one by one from the house followed by Robbie who stuck closely to them, an incredulous expression on his face.

"Everyone," Sportacus smiled, "This is my big brother Íþró! He's come to look after you whilst I'm not feeling well."

Íþróttaálfurinn felt a stab of guilt as he was reminded of the injuries he had caused his brother.

"Pah!" The fae exclaimed, "He can't look after them! He's clearly been drinking!"

"Have you been drinking?" Sportacus raised a questioning eyebrow at his brother. Íþróttaálfurinn shrugged, indicating that he had with a grimace. Sportacus looked disappointed.

"Starting from tomorrow."

The fae rolled his eyes but didn't object any further. Whenever he caught his eye the fae's gaze was full of disdain and distrust.

A girl dressed entirely in pink had stepped forward toward Sportacus.  
"Is he a hero too?"

Sportacus crouched down to her level smiling a bright, genuine smile.  
"He's the best, he taught me everything I know about being a hero!"

Íþróttaálfurinn felt as though he had been stabbed and someone was twisting the knife inside him. His little brother had a heart of gold and he did not deserve him one bit.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Once they'd seen Íþróttaálfurinn safely back to his balloon and had sufficiently reassured the children that it was safe to play again, Sportacus and Robbie retreated back to the underground bunker and curled up together on the big fluffy armchair.

Robbie was fidgety, bouncing his knees and twitching his nose.

"I hope you're not expecting me to forgive him too!"

Sportacus nuzzled his face into his boyfriend's shoulder.

"Maybe one day… he is my big brother after all…"

Robbie sighed. "Family christmases are going to be such a nightmare!"

Sportacus giggled. "Luckily for you elves don't really do christmas. It's more of a human thing."

"I don't like him being here."

"I know you don't Robbie. I can't say I'm thrilled either…"

"If he even lays one finger on you I'll-"

"He won't. He's in a worse state than me, only he doesn't have anyone to kiss him better."

Sportacus smiled and captured his boyfriend's lips in a quick kiss. Robbie rolled his eyes.

"Glanni would if your brother would let him."

Sportacus's eyes widened like saucers and he chewed on his lip nervously.

"I'm sorry that my brother… hurt your brother…"

"Pish!" Robbie snorted dismissively, "He wouldn't've got anywhere near him unless Glanni wanted him to."

Sportacus raised a doubtful eyebrow but didn't press the issue.

Robbie curled his fingers into Sportacus's golden hair.  
"So what now."

Sportacus mumbled sadly, closing his eyes.  
"I think I'm going to be forced to make a choice."

"Oh?"

"I think I'm going to have to choose between being a Hero, and being with you…"

Above him the fae swallowed nervously.

"And what will you choose?"

"I don't know Robbie," Sportacus murmured sadly, "I just don't know."

Robbie stiffened, then let out a breath and resumed his stroking through Sportacus's hair.

"Would it help if I killed all of the other elves and their stinking council?"

Sportacus huffed a laugh into his boyfriend's chest.  
"Genocide is never the answer Robbie, but thank you for offering." He looked up into the fae's cool grey eyes.  
"It means a lot that you would go so far to defend me."

"I'd do anything to protect you Sportalove. We're in this together."

"I love you Robbie."

The fae pressed a kiss into the nest of golden curls. "I love you too."

  
  



	14. Always A Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ithro plays with the children of Lazytown whilst Sportacus and Robbie enjoy some alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full smut ahead Captain!

Robbie kissed his boyfriend goodbye and watched him disappear up the pipe to the surface.

The moment the pert blue arse had wiggled out of sight he leapt towards his armchair and grabbed the phone.

"Glæpur Glamping. Weekend escapes for-"

"Glanni it's Robbie."

The simpering voice greeted him joyfully.  
"Robbie darling! Tell me all the gossip, did your new elf put out yet?" Glanni giggled, Robbie could envision him twirling the phone chord around his finger. "Oh wait, I forgot, he's a slut!"

Glanni's manic laughter cackled down the phone.

"Glanni that isn't funny."

Robbie could practically hear his brother pouting. "It is a bit funny."

Robbie continued urgently, "I don't know what you thought you were doing shagging that bastard Numbered elf but he's turned up here!"

Glanni's tone immediately became serious. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. He and Sportacus hugged it out apparently - infuriating bloody elves, but I don't like him being here, not one bit. He seems a bit unstable."

"Hmmm he is that." Glanni’s voice sounded thoughtful. Robbie spoke his reply softly.

"You know he thinks he raped you Glanni."

His older brother snorted.  
"Yeah, I figured a little psychological anguish served him right."

Robbie rolled his eyes.   
"And after you've clearly been in love with him for years…"

"How-?"

"He told Sportacus the whole story. Just because elves can't recognise proper courting rituals when they hit them in the face doesn't mean I don't recognise it."

Glanni chuckled, "Fine. I admit it. He's _dreamy_ …"

"Sounds like you went on a bit thick with the glamours."

"I was getting mixed messages."

"Of course you were. Still, I wish he wasn't now stuck here with us."  
Robbie glanced up towards the ceiling, knowing that the object of their conversation was currently haunting the surface.

"Ah. Now don't worry about that.” Glanni continued, “I've just met someone rather interesting. It seems that we're not the only ones looking into this whole conspiracy business. We're going to be heading your way. Should be with you by tomorrow afternoon sometime."

Robbie pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. More visitors? 

"Urg. Alright. But come straight down to my place. The surface is plagued with elves and I don't want you traumatising the children."

"Prude. I'll see you then, stay out of trouble!" Glanni rang off with a smug chuckle. 

Robbie replaced the receiver, covered his face with an orange fluffy cushion and screamed into it. More people coming to stay! This was not how he had envisioned the first week with his new boyfriend.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next morning Íþróttaálfurinn rose bright and early, and jumped down from his balloon. He jogged into the little forest just beyond the borders of the town and washed himself in the little stream. It felt good to wash the grime of Mayhem Town off him - alas only physically as it still stained his soul, but he flipped back into Lazy Town feeling refreshed and alert.

In the town square he could see the same group of children he had met yesterday huddling together, deep in conversation. He approached them.

"Good morning children."

They all turned to stare at him warily.

"Hello… Etho?" The girl dressed in pink spoke first.

"Íþró." He corrected.

"Ithro." She copied with a nod. "How are you today?"

He puffed out his chest. "I was just getting ready to do some morning exercises! Would you like to join me?"

The children all brightened. The girl in pink - Stephie?, spoke excitedly.  
"We can play sports with you! What did you have in mind?"

"Aerobics is always a good start to the day!" Íþróttaálfurinn posed, demonstrating his muscles that had been honed from years of aerobic training.

A small girl with her hair in pigtails screwed up her face.  
"What's that?" 

"Let me show you!" 

Íþróttaálfurinn launched into a dizzying routine of flips, splits, push ups and kicks. The kids eyes all widened.

"Those look like Sportacus's superhero moves!" The smallest boy exclaimed in excitement. "Are you going to teach us how to move like a superhero!?"

Íþróttaálfurinn finished his routine with a flourish.

"Of course!" He encouraged them all to space out across the town square, "Now watch me…"

Over the course of the next half an hour or so Íþróttaálfurinn instructed the happy children in aerobic techniques, starting with the basics, but after a while their attention began to wander.

"Can we play basketball Ithro?" The small boy - Ziggy, he'd learnt, tugged at his trouser leg.

"I don't know the rules of basketball", the elf admitted, "I mostly just do aerobics."

"We can teach you!" The girl who he had learnt was called Trixie jumped up from where she had been attempting to do the splits on the floor.

"And we can use MY basketball!" Offered the nasal sounding boy - Stingy.

"Alright!"

Íþróttaálfurinn allowed himself to be guided over to the playing field where two hoops had been set up at either end of the space.

"All you need to do is get the ball into the basket! The other team will try to get the ball, and put it in _their_ basket. See?" The girl in pink, Stephanie, explained.

The elf nodded, "I think I can do that."

The children set about dividing themselves into two teams.

"Will you be on my team Ithro? Will you, please?" Ziggy looked up pleadingly.

"Of course!" Íþróttaálfurinn replied.

In the end the teams consisted of himself, Ziggy and Stingy against Stephanie, Trixie and Pixel. And they passed a pleasant hour playing a few friendly games of basketball. It wasn't all plain sailing - Stingy had to be coaxed to allow the ball back into play after every basket, and Pixel kept getting distracted by the peculiar gadget strapped to his arm, but it was still very pleasant. 

"I wish Sportacus and Robbie were here! Sportacus loves basketball!" Ziggy exclaimed.

Stephanie shushed him, throwing a worried glance Íþróttaálfurinn's way.

"Sportacus is hurt remember. He can't play basketball right now."

Íþróttaálfurinn felt the knife twist in his chest as the feelings of guilt flooded to the surface.

"Hey Ithro!" Ziggy tugged at his trouser leg. "What happened to Sportacus? Why is he too hurt to play basketball? Did he fall down the stairs?"

Trixie laughed, "Sportacus wouldn't fall down the stairs! He would do a flip and land straight at the bottom!"

Five pairs of eyes stared innocently up at the hero. The guilt stabbed at him.

"No, Sportacus didn't fall down the stairs…" Íþróttaálfurinn cleared his throat, changing the subject. "So tell me more about the- about Robbie. He's an unusual sort of man isn't he?"

The kids all waved their arms and jumped up and down, all launching in at the same time.

“Robbie's great! He taught me how to make the best gooey chocolate fudge cake ever!”  
“He's a great guy! He helped me fix my computer!”  
“He showed us this card game and how I can win things so they're mine!”  
“Robbie plays all these great games, he has so many awesome disguises…”  
“He makes Sportacus happy…”

Íþróttaálfurinn blinked, allowing the children's words to flow over him. Had he truly become so twisted in his obsession with Glanni that he'd not even considered the possibility that a fae could be nice? The way the children spoke about Robbie was beautiful, they clearly loved him dearly and trusted him with all their hearts.

Guilt clamped its iron first around his heart. How could he have got things so wrong?

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sportacus lay face down on Robbie’s bed whilst his boyfriend finished re-bandaging his back. Apparently the wounds were healing nicely, helped along by the magical concoction, and Sportacus was relieved to reveal that the pain was lessening. Unless someone touched them or they rubbed up against something, he could almost pretend that nothing was wrong. 

He sat up when Robbie finished, curling his legs under him. The taller man finished putting the various bits and bobs away in the bathroom and then joined him on the bed, resting back against the headboard. 

“Thank you for taking care of me Robbie.” Sportacus smiled, looking through his lashes at the taller man. 

“Anytime Sportasweet.” Robbie grinned. 

Sportacus maneuvered on the bed, throwing a leg over Robbie‘s lounging frame and came to rest straddling his boyfriends hips.   
Sportacus ran his hands slowly up Robbie’s chest, feeling the material crease beneath his fingers, lowering his torso slowly until their faces were inches apart. 

“I want to do some exercise Robbie…” Sportacus purred, “I’ve heard that bouncing on the bed can be very fun…”

Robbie raised an eyebrow.   
“If this is your idea of seduction may I suggest you leave the word exercise out of it? It’s kind of a mood killer…”

“Not even if you just lay back and let me do all of the work?”

Robbie grinned. Sportacus could feel him hardening against his spread thighs. 

“I want to ride you Robbie.”

Robbie made an involuntary squeaking sound. He grabbed a pillow and threw it at Sportacus’s head.

“Hey!”

Sportacus deflected the pillow. He blinked, Robbie hadn’t moved but was now entirely naked. 

“How-?”

Robbie shrugged, “Magic… it doesn’t work if you’re looking.”

Sportacus considered this. “Seems like a strange rule. I guess I’m now overdressed”

He hopped off the bed and shimmied out of his trousers. Robbie stroked himself lazily as he watched. 

“Lube’s in the top drawer.”

“The one right next to you?” Sportacus quipped. 

“Hey,” the fae held his free hand up, “you’re the one who wanted to do all the work!”

Sportacus fetched the little bottle Robbie had indicated and climbed back up, settling into the same position, relishing the feel of Robbie’s hardness beneath him. 

“That’s right,” the elf said, popping the lid on the little bottle and squeezing some onto his fingers, “you just let me take care of everything.”

His breath hitched as he slipped a slick finger into himself and quickly followed it with a second. 

Robbie rested his hands behind his head and relaxed back, enjoying the view. 

Sportacus stretched himself open, keening softly in his throat. He pulled his fingers out with a pop and squeezed out some more lube into his hand.

He shuffled backwards a little to make room for his hand then gripped the base of the fae’s elegant shaft. Slowly and deliberately he moved his hand up and down it, slicking the entire length.   
Robbie shivered with pleasure. 

“Keep doing that Sportafuck and there... _won’t_ be anything... _left_ for you to… _ride_ …!”

Sportacus let go and shuffled forward, bracing himself on his knees to hover above his boyfriend.   
He clasped the base of Robbie’s slicked cock and guided it into him, sinking down, letting gravity do the work for him. 

He gasped as he absorbed the entire length. 

“Fuck! I love it when you fill me up Robbie!”

Robbie groaned, “Less talking… more doing.”

Sportacus lifted himself, pulling off almost all the way before pushing back down. Their moans harmonised in the air. 

Encouraged, Sportacus set off at a faster pace, rising up and slamming back down with a controlled urgency. Robbie moaned and bucked beneath him. 

The elf panted breathlessly. He brought his arms up and braced himself on Robbie’s chest, tweaking at the fae’s dark nipples with his thumbs.   
The taller man made a sort of strangled noise in his throat 

Sportacus pounded his hips faster now that the slight burn of the stretch had dissipated, crying out every time the hard length hit that sweet spot within him.   
He reached a hand down to stoke himself, groaning in delight.

Robbie suddenly tensed with a shouted, arching his back and kicking up his hips. Sportacus could feel a warm wetness flow into him. He slowed his pace, milking the fae for every drop.  
He felt a tightening in his belly and knew that he was close. The elf rocked on his boyfriend's now softening cock whilst furiously pumping his own.

Sportacus came with a shout, emptying himself over Robbie's chest.

They both rested for a second, panting. Sportacus shuffled, allowing the fae to fall out of him.

"Sorry," he gasped between breaths, "I should probably clean that up."

Sportacus planted his hands either side of Robbie's waist on the bed and lowered his shoulders down as though he were doing a push up.  
When his nose came into contact with his boyfriend's chest he stuck his tongue out and licked up the sticky fluid. Robbie groaned and tangled a hand into his hair.

Once Robbie was spotless, Sportacus pushed himself up and arranged himself so he was curled around the taller man, their legs tangling together.  
The fae wrapped one arm around the elf's shoulders and with the other picked up Sportacus's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his knuckles.

Sportacus giggled suddenly as a thought occurred to him.

"Now THAT'S what I call a workout!"

Robbie rolled his eyes.

"Elves!" 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are - the halfway point of the fic. The 'Healing Mid-Season Finale', as I referred to this chapter as I wrote it.
> 
> How do we feel about Ithro now lads?
> 
> Thank you so, so much for all your comments and kudos. I'm so happy that people are enjoying this very self indulgent story I wrote whilst sleep deprived XD


	15. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glanni brings a visitor to Robbie's lair.

Sportacus and Robbie were making out in the fae's big fluffy armchair, enjoying their first day alone whilst Íþróttaálfurinn looked after Lazy Town, at the moment that Glanni Glæpur chose to make his entrance.  
A sudden puff of glittery pink smoke startled them out of their entwined position and without thinking Sportacus found himself leaping guiltily to his feet. Robbie stood up more deliberately.

Once the smoke had dissipated into the voluminous space, the blue-clad elf could make out two figures. The first, the taller of the two, was a man with close cropped black hair and dark eyes to match, wearing an exquisitely tailored royal purple suit with a ruffled shirt beneath.  
The second figure, dressed in blue and green, was someone Sportacus recognised.

"Íþrótt!"

Sportacus waved happily in greeting.

"Oh great, just what we need. Another flipping elf!" His boyfriend was less than thrilled apparently, "You'd better have one hell of a good explanation Glanni, I thought you said you'd met someone interesting."

The tall, darker man - the infamous Glanni Glæpur, Sportacus supposed, strode forward and clapped his younger brother on the back.

"Now Robbie dear, that's not nice. After all, you're the one who's doing _so much_ for interspecies relations…"   
Sportacus noted that his voice was sweet like pure sugar, and just as dangerous.  
"Are you going to introduce me to your…" Glanni slowly looked him up and down, "...charming new stress reliever?"

"Glanni!"

Sportacus chose to ignore the dig in favour of a chance to make a good first impression to a potential in-law.  
He bounded over and presented his hand for the shaking.

"Hello! I'm Sportacus!"

Glanni took his hand as though he'd just been asked to step in for the next dance, and with his other he caressed up the outstretched arm, stroking the contours of Sportacus's muscles.

"Charmed." He purred.

"Glanni stop touching-"

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused them all to look round.

Number Three of the elven Order of Numbered Heroes - or Íþrótt, stood in the same spot that he and Glanni had arrived on.

"Could we speed through the inevitable introductions if you please, there's a lot we need to discuss."

"Yes, first things first. Who _is_ this?!" Robbie gestured to Íþrótt.

"Robbie this is Íþrótt! He's a Numbered Hero too!" Sportacus offered excitedly, politely trying, and failing, to extract his arm from Glanni's grasp.

"You can call me Number Three."

Robbie scoffed and rolled his eyes at Íþrótt's words, but seemed more interested slapping Glanni's hand away from where it was now creeping towards Sportacus's chest.

"Spoil sport!" Glanni pouted, "...oh wait. You do!" He cackled.

"Glanni!" Robbie exclaimed. Sportacus felt himself blushing.

He addressed his next question to Íþrótt, "How did you come to be travelling with Mr Glæpur Íþrótt?"

The older elf grimaced.

"It seems this fae and I have been looking at the same people. I thought it would be useful for us all to get together to compare notes." He raised a questioning eyebrow towards Sportacus.  
"I hear your brother arrived yesterday?"

Sportacus nodded and gestured to the ceiling. "He's looking after the children."

Íþrótt pursed his lips together.   
"Best leave him up there for the time being."

Robbie threw his hands up into the air.   
"Will someone tell me what's going on!?"

Íþrótt settled himself on the floor, bracing one foot on the floor and resting an elbow on his raised knee. Sportacus dropped into a cross legged pose and looked up at Robbie, willing him to sit down too.  
Robbie seemed to take the hint and, grumbling, folded himself up next to his boyfriend.

"I've been growing increasingly troubled by reports from the homelands for some time now…" the older elf began.

Outside of their circle Glanni rolled his eyes and flopped himself into Robbie's chair.

Íþrótt continued, undeterred.  
"...but after recent events," he glanced at Sportacus, "I became convinced that something dangerous is brewing-"

"Oh stop with the theatrics - never thought I'd be one saying that!" Glanni interrupted from where he was now draped across the chair, "Skip to the bit about the do goody incorruptible elf council."

Sportacus snapped his attention back to the older elf.

"What about the Council?"

"Did you notice how many of them there were the other day?" Sportacus nodded. 

"It never used to be like that." Íþrótt continued, "Back in my day the Council was much smaller, usually no more than ten elves at any one time - made up of respected scholars or accomplished elders. But as the human world developed faster and faster, the Council decided they needed to embrace change rather than resist it. They appointed a new member to make studies and recommendations on the issue of modernisation."

From out of the corner of his eye, Sportacus could see Glanni kicking his feet with all the energy of a bored toddler. 

He turned his attention back to Íþrótt.

"Gradually the Council oversaw changes, bringing in new technologies and procedures - your airship for example, and with each new change they appointed a new councillor to oversee it. The Council now hosts councillors for communication technologies, for propulsion systems, interspecies community relations - and many other things. All supposedly expert elves in their fields, but here's the thing - if you dig deep enough, none of them seem to have been anyone of any note until a couple of years before their appointment to the Council, at least! There are now close to forty of them."

Sportacus remembered the banks of faces lining the curved walls of the Council Chamber, staring down at him. He shivered.  
Next to him Robbie reached out a hand and took his own, entwining their fingers together.

"But why would that matter?" Sportacus questioned, squeezing Robbie's hand appreciatively.

"It wouldn't," Glanni interjected, "if they _were_ elves…"

Sportacus’s eyes widened. He looked to Íþrótt questioningly. 

The older elf coughed pointedly at the purple suited fae. 

“I’ve been doing a bit of digging - following the paper trail. The appointments, the research, the outsourcing of commissions such as the new airships… it always ends up back with companies and organisations with ties to the Hedge.”

Sportacus gasped. “Changelings?”

"I suspect so. Not all of them, but it's quite likely that by now the majority of our elven council are indeed changelings disguised as elves." Íþrótt acknowledged with a weary sigh.

"But… but why!?" Sportacus asked confusedly. "Why go to all the trouble of replacing the Council if they're not going to do anything except…" he fumbled for an example, "buy airships!?"

"First of all," Íþrótt clarified, "I don't believe that anyone has been replaced. I suspect that kidnapping council members and keeping up the charade would be too high risk in the long run. They have, more accurately, _overtaken_ the Council with an influx of new members."

Sportacus fidgeted, his frustration coming out through the waggling of his feet and the tapping of his fingers.  
"But why?"

"It's a power grab _sweetie_ ," Glanni interrupted with a condescending tone before turning to address Robbie, "good job he's pretty."

Robbie choked down a laugh. "He… he is pretty…"

Sportacus squeezed Robbie's hand, turning to look into his eyes.  
"You're very pretty too Robbie."

Glanni rolled his eyes, grinning gleefully.   
"Bless. The poor little elfling doesn't even know when he's being insulted. It's kind of cute! I can see why he appeals to you brother."

Robbie opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Íþrótt who was steadily going red in the face, blond moustache twitching with annoyance.

"IF you're all _quite finished_!" Íþrótt glared at each of them in turn, reminding Sportacus of some of his more fearsome teachers back at the academy.   
"Yes. It _is_ most likely a power grab, but a very long term one. If I were to hazard a guess the changelings are probably aiming to undermine confidence in the reliability of the elf lands and dismantle as much of our infrastructure as they can so that when the time comes for them to invade there won't be much in the way of resistance - either from the elf population or from the Fairy Courts."  
He nodded towards Robbie and Glanni.  
"To that end I further suspect that they will have it in for the Numbered Heroes. We saw that, given what happened to you."

Íþrótt looked directly at Sportacus who felt his back twinge with the memory.

"So…" Sportacus began slowly, "the changelings on the council were upset about Robbie and I…" he paused to smile at his boyfriend, "...being together, because they want to invade? But what has that got to do with _us_?" He indicated to himself and the fae currently holding his hand.

Off to one side, Glanni groaned.

Íþrótt explained in a slightly exasperated tone.  
"It’s not about you! It was never about the two of you. The council was just looking for an excuse to publicly disgrace a hero and that-" he flung up an arm, pointing to the ceiling.

"...racist idiot?" Glanni offered helpfully.

Íþrótt ignored him. "...and _your brother_ unwittingly handed them exactly what they needed on a plate!"

Robbie interjected cautiously, "So they jumped on some, at best, shaky evidence, forced it through and will soon be able to publish only that a Hero has been… whatever, but without needing to explain how. They'll then introduce monitoring or quotas or something for the rest of you and watch as each of you fail to live up to whatever impossible standard they set. They'll announce that the Heroes have had their day and voila, no more Numbers."

"Exactly!" Íþrótt nodded grimly.

"So," Sportacus filled himself with a grim determination, "what are we going to do about it?"

The older elf smiled. "I have the beginnings of a plan, but it will require all five of us working together I should think. What is the situation with Number Eight?"

Sportacus glanced upwards doubtfully.  
"Íþró is remorseful, and has apologised. But I do not know if I can trust him yet. He turned up drunk Íþrótt!"

Glanni sniggered.

"And he… I don't know how well he would work with Gl… with all of us."   
Sportacus turned to Glanni, "Will you be helping us?"

The older fae slid out of the orange chair and slunk his way over seductively. He crossed behind the two of them with their hands entwined and leaned his weight onto Sportacus's shoulders, bringing his lips to the part of the elven ear that was visible beneath the band of the blue hat.

"I will avenge my family, my new bimbo elven brother, even if that means joining this little merry band. And don't worry about _your_ brother. I haven't finished with him yet… revenge will be sweet."

Íþrótt cleared his throat. "His being remorseful is good, but I'm slightly concerned that he was so susceptible to the council's manipulations in the first place. I can't fathom why."

"It was a…" Sportacus could feel Glanni's long fingers pressing into the muscles of his shoulders, "...personal issue."

Íþrótt nodded, "Well I hope he is wise enough to move past it now, Number Eight always did strike me as being a bit too headstrong."

"There's a cure for that," Glanni purred, sliding his hands down the front of Sportacus's chest, "he just needs to get bent over and fucked nice and hard."

Sportacus gasped, grabbing Glanni's descending arm. The fabric of the velvet purple suit sleeve rode up slightly beneath Sportacus's fingers.  
Robbie grabbed at Glanni's hand.

"Glanni! Your wrist!"

"Oh those…" The older fae removed himself from where he was now draped across Sportacus and adjusted his sleeve so it covered the familiar mark, "courtesy of our favourite elf."

Robbie flicked his eyes upward. Sportacus could feel him beginning to get angry.  
"You mean…?"

Glanni cut him off, "That one's _charming_ brother, yes," he rubbed at his wrists absentmindedly, "he got them made especially, as a present!"

Sportacus could feel Robbie practically vibrating with rage beside him. He squeezed his hand tighter partly in reassurance and partly to keep Robbie from launching himself at anyone.

"That's-!"

"Don't worry," Glanni grinned a wide and dangerous smile, "I got him in them before too long. Now we match!"

"But…" Sportacus's mind was racing, "Íþró doesn't have any scars?"

"Oh little elf," Glanni crouched down in front of him, "have you never wondered why your dear brother started wearing bracelets like yours?"   
He tapped the hard casing of Sportacus's bracer with a long nail.

Sportacus thought back. Now Glanni had mentioned it, he couldn't remember his brother wearing bracers when he'd first started out, but more recently it was true, thick leather cuffs now adorned his arms. Sportacus winced and tried to rub at his own wrist. Robbie grabbed his other hand and held them both still.

Íþrótt took the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to jump to his feet.

"Here's what I suggest," he stretched, "you four take the rest of the day to resolve whatever family disagreements you all have, and I'll meet you all back here first thing tomorrow morning…" Robbie and Glanni groaned, "...to go over the plan."

Sportacus jumped to his feet, dragging Robbie up with him.

"Okay Íþrótt! What are you going to do?"

"I've got a couple more leads to follow up on," the older elf replied, "plus I don't want to be here for whatever he," he indicated to Glanni, "ends up doing to Number Eight."

Glanni chuckled darkly, "Wise elf."

The older fae wandered over to Íþrótt and Sportacus watched them negotiate back and forth for a moment before Glanni turned back to them brightly.

"Back in a moment!"

In a poof of glittery pink smoke they were both gone.

Sportacus turned to his boyfriend. He looked remarkably calm, much calmer than Sportacus himself felt. The elf chewed on his lip nervously.

"Robbie I-" 

A loud bang and another puff of pink glitter interrupted him as Glanni materialised in the corner.

Phew!" The fae exclaimed, "Teleporting with passengers is such a _bitch_." 

He collapsed into the big armchair and clicked his fingers.  
"Robbie be a dear and fetch your poor, exhausted, handsome, older brother some cake would you? I need to get all my strength up for what I've got planned."

"What have you got planned?" Sportacus asks cautiously.

Glanni grinned, "Well first I'm going to eat some cake. And then I suggest you boys stay down here, unless you want to watch of course." He winked.

Sportacus sputtered. Robbie patted him on the shoulder.  
"We'll stay here."

The elf watched as his boyfriend wandered over to the little kitchen area and returned with two large slices of creamy vanilla cake and an apple. He felt a little surge of joy knowing that Robbie had started keeping sportscandy down here just for him.

Sportacus sat on the floor munching his apple while the two fae chatted over by the chair. He tuned their voices out, pondering instead the information Íþrótt had imparted. Changelings on the Elf Council? It was all so shocking.   
He hoped that Íþrótt's plan, whatever it was, wouldn't require anything dangerous for him or for Robbie, but the anxious knot forming at the bottom of his stomach suspected otherwise.

I guess I'll find out tomorrow, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot!? In my fic? Lol
> 
> If you've made it this far, congratulations. You have read further than my dear long suffering girlfriend who is not part of the Lazytown fandom but has very patiently watched both of the Icelandic musicals and a handful of episodes at my insistence. I'm very proud of her for putting up with me writing the longest story of my life and not going mad. <3
> 
> To all of you looking forward to the next Glanni/Ithro interaction... stay tuned ;)


	16. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glanni takes his revenge. Sportacus and Robbie enjoy some alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has left comments. It honestly means so much to me that people are enjoying the story so much that they're waiting for updates. I think several of you are going to enjoy this chapter in particular...
> 
> (I don't think I need to say smut warning but I'll say it anyway - smut warning, always read the tags)

Íþróttaálfurinn stood at the edge of the playing field watching the children proudly. They'd really got the hang of aerobics and it warmed his heart to see them stretching and jumping, creating their own routines.  
Of course it couldn't mask the hatred he felt for himself or the guilt… but for a few moments he was almost able to forget - almost.

It was a harmonious and peaceful moment, until Íþróttaálfurinn spotted a familiar face leering at him from the bushes. His blood ran cold. The face disappeared.  
Adrenaline surged through him as he shouted a farewell to the children, not wanting them to worry and follow him, and leapt after the retreating figure.

Glanni Glæpur was slippery and difficult to follow but Íþróttaálfurinn managed to keep snatching glances of him here and there long enough to find himself being led away into the little forest that lay on the outskirts of town. He was relieved to be heading away from the children but otherwise was acting mostly unthinkingly.  
It seemed that where Glanni led him, he would follow.

It was quite without warning that Íþróttaálfurinn's prey pounced.

One minute the elf was stalking Glanni's shadow through the forest, and the next he found himself being pushed into the ground, a familiar weight pressing down on his back. The fae's hot breath tickled in his ear.

"You're a disgrace. You deserve to suffer the consequences."

Íþróttaálfurinn heard his own words with a stab of recognition. Shame hit him like a tidal wave. So this was it. The consequences. Revenge.   
Whatever it was, he deserved it.

The elf felt nimble fingers working at his belt and lifted his hips slightly to allow his trousers to slip, unencumbered, over his hips.

"That's right," the fae sneered, "I knew you wanted me. Desperate slut."

A warm wetness splattered against his behind. Spit, just as he had done. It made sense that Glanni would punish him with his own actions, it was fitting.  
Íþróttaálfurinn felt a tear escape from his eye and roll down his face as Glanni pushed into him with a triumphant whoop. The fiery pain that shot through him was terrible and he welcomed it.

Glanni slapped the hat from his head and Íþróttaálfurinn found his head being roughly pulled up by a fist tangled in his hair. The fae began slowly thrusting in and out of him, using the grip on his hair as leverage. A pained grunt forced its way out of his throat.

Behind him Glanni laughed, cruel and mocking.

"That's it lover, take it." Nimble fingers began working to undo his leather breastplate, "Take it the way you give it. What would your precious council say to see you like this? What would your brother say?"

Íþróttaálfurinn felt his breastplate come away as the cold air hit his back.

"Is this humiliation the same as your brother felt as you flogged him?" Glanni raked his long fingernails down the length of Íþróttaálfurinn's back. "How about now?"

The elf let out a strangled moan as Glanni hit the right spot deep within him and a jolt of pleasure travelled up his spine. His growing erection throbbed where it was trapped between his body and the cold ground.

"Or is the real humiliation knowing how much you love this? How much you've dreamt of this moment?"

The fae picked up the pace. Every thrust rubbing Íþróttaálfurinn's hardness maddeningly against the ground and sending waves of pleasure through him as Glanni never failed to miss the spot. The pleasure and the pain mixed within him and soon he was crying out with every jolt.

Glanni's words became halting as he started to pant with the exertion, "You are… a disgrace… to everything… you represent…" Íþróttaálfurinn closed his eyes in a vague bid to stop the tears from leaking out as Glanni continued.   
"Hypocritical… judgemental...impulsive… _bastard_!"

The elf felt the heat rising up from his curling toes and knew that he was close. He hated himself for wanting it, but he yearned for it with every fibre of his being. Glanni had captured his heart long ago, the same way he had captured his body now. The fae was intoxicating.

"You don't... _deserve_ to be...a...a _Hero_!"

Íþróttaálfurinn came with a shudder and a strangled sob, clenching around the invading erection. Shame surged through him.  
Above him Glanni screamed his way through his own orgasm, his hips rocking and twitching until the end.

As Glanni finished and collapsed down onto him, Íþróttaálfurinn found his voice at last. He spat the words with as much venom as he could muster.

"I hope that was everything you've ever wanted Glæpur."

Glanni laughed brightly, as though he had just been told an amusing anecdote over cocktails, and rolled off the elf, coming to lie face up next to him on the forest floor. He wriggled, presumably tucking himself away.

"Oh honey this wasn't about me. Although I admit I would be lying if I said I hadn't dreamed of this, the context was rather a surprise."

Íþróttaálfurinn grumbled, "So what now? You clap me in irons and drag me back to the elf lands to denounce my Number? You kill and bury me here in the woods? Take your revenge, fae."

A silence fell between them for a beat, the sounds of the forest seeming to pause with them. When Glanni spoke next it was uncharacteristically soft.

"You feel you deserve more?"

"Well DON'T I?" Íþróttaálfurinn spat into the dirt, "After _everything_ I did, to you, to _Sportacus_!"

By way of response, Glanni reached down and pulled the elf's trousers back up, covering him. He flinched in surprise as the fae patted his backside but the motion was gentle, almost tender.

"No. Any debt between us is now settled, and I know your soft hearted brother has forgiven you. What's done is done."

Íþróttaálfurinn rolled over onto his back and stared up into the dark eyes of his nemesis. Staring back at him were not the hate filled eyes of a villain, but the worried eyes of a friend.

"Why-?" He whispered. 

The fae reached down and tenderly stroked his tear stained cheek. His voice was wistful.

"We could be great together if you'd allow us a chance. I think we both know it. What is it you're afraid of?" He paused and withdrew his hand.  
"Actually I don't care. Work it out yourself and come to me whenever you've stopped wallowing and you're ready to have a good time."

Glanni stood up. Íþróttaálfurinn pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"You'd want to waste your time on a hypocritical, judgemental, impulsive bastard?"

"Fucking hell." Glanni knelt down and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, shaking him a little.   
"Snap out of it. Sure you did some shitty things, so did I, deal with it. You got me back for the glamours I scrambled you with, and I repaid you in kind. And both of us thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Let's face it, you and I aren't exactly the tender lovemaking types. But all that's done now.  
You are a Numbered Hero. That does not mean you are not allowed to make mistakes, the _heroic_ thing to do is to face up to them and make amends. So stop wallowing, get your shit together and come face everyone tomorrow morning. We're going to need as many heroes as possible to save the world."

Íþróttaálfurinn looked up at him, mouth agape.

"But I-" 

Glanni rose once more to his full height, interrupting the seated Hero.

"Zip it. You and I are cool, more than that if you want to be. Go have feelingsy chats with the others if you need to, I don't care, but come tomorrow morning I expect to find you out behind the billboard, head held high, ready to do your part."

Glanni turned on his heel and stalked off down the path, back towards Lazy Town. Íþróttaálfurinn sat in shock, his head spinning. Was what Glanni said really true? How could he put everything behind him when he still felt consumed with guilt inside?  
Íþróttaálfurinn gathered up his discarded armour and adjusted his clothing, noting with a sigh the grass stains now adorning the front of his trousers. He could feel a dribbling wetness coming from his sore behind and resolved to head straight to his balloon for a new pair, lest any of the townsfolk see him.

In any other context that would've been the greatest lay of his life and a tiny part of him, deep down, glowed with a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, Glanni might want to do it again someday.

  
  


* * *

Robbie Rotten breathed a sigh of relief. His lair was his own once again - at least for the time being. He knew, given the arrangement to rendezvous tomorrow morning, that the peace was short lived, but the fact remained that for now, he and his elven Adonis had the place to themselves. 

The elf in question was currently pacing back and forth, occasionally pausing to tap his foot restlessly on the ground, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Every now and again he would glance up at the ceiling with a concerned expression. He'd been like that ever since Glanni had made his exit from the lair.

"Sportalove." Robbie moved over to his anxious boyfriend, "Sportacus. Don't worry about them, they'll be fine."

Sportacus looked at Robbie, his eyes filled with emotion. "Are you sure?"

"From what I've gathered your brother can handle himself, and Glanni is too in love with your brother to not enjoy whatever it is they end up doing. They'll probably just have a rough and tumble shag in a field somewhere."

Sportacus's eyes widened. "Glanni _loves_ Íþró?"

Robbie grinned, "Yeah. Isn't it obvious?"

The elf shook his head, "I think I still have a lot to learn about fae mannerisms…"

Robbie chuckled, "How's this for a fae mannerisms?" He cupped Sportacus's face gently with both hands and met his lips in a tender kiss. The elf moaned into it and tried to press himself up against the fae who took a step back and broke contact.

"Steady on cowboy," Robbie laughed, "Let me change over your dressings first before you get me going. I promise I'll show you a good time afterwards."

Sportacus slipped their hands together and started leading him towards the bedroom, skipping slightly with barely concealed excitement.

"What will you do?"

Robbie growled, silently thanking every star in the sky for his wonderfully insatiable boyfriend. He leaned in close, keeping his voice low.

"I'm going to worship every inch of you so that every single part of you knows how much I love you. Then I'm going to fuck you nice and slow until you can stand it no longer and are just begging me to allow you to cum. And when I eventually let you, I'm going to look you in the eye so you know who you belong to, now and forever."

Sportacus wined and stumbled slightly. Robbie squeezed his hand.

"But first it's Nurse Robbie time! Onto the bed with you!" Robbie wandered into the bathroom wondering if perhaps he should create a sexy nurse's uniform for the next time, whilst Sportacus started stripping.  
When he returned the elf was stretched out on his stomach, entirely naked save for the bandages across his back.

Robbie made quick work of cleaning the wounds and changing the dressings. The cuts had all closed now and were starting to scab over which he knew was probably unbearably itchy, luckily the magical salve would soothe any discomfort of that sort. The whole area surrounding the harsh lines had bruised causing the whole scene, in some ways, to look even more horrific than when it had been fresh. For this reason Robbie still denied Sportacus the opportunity to look at it in a mirror, he just reassured him he was healing well.

When he'd finished and cleared the first aid kit away, Robbie coaxed his boyfriend into sitting upright, knowing he shouldn't yet lie on his back but wanting access to his chest.  
He leaned in to kiss Sportacus, enjoying the heat of his mouth and agility of his tongue. His fingers moved up to tangle in the elf's golden hair, tugging a little when the kiss grew more heated.

"Mmmmnh I love you so much," Robbie muttered as he came up for air, "close your eyes."

Sportacus did as he was bidden, a smile playing across his lips. Robbie hopped off the bed and span quickly on the spot, ridding himself of his clothing. He re-joined the elf, brushing up against him, relishing the feel of bare skin on his own.

"You can open your eyes again." He whispered. Sportacus did so, flashing that perfect, deep crystal blue colour that Robbie had come to adore.  
"Now I want you to sit still, can you do that for me?"

The elf nodded, settling into a cross legged pose and centring his weight.

Robbie picked up one of Sportacus's hands and pressed a kiss to the palm before sucking each finger into his mouth one by one, swirling his tongue around them. He kissed along the line of the elf's knuckles before moving on to his wrist.

The red band encircling the place where his arm met his hand was impossible to ignore yet Robbie delicately licked and nibbled his way around it. He placed a kiss at the pulse point, feeling the beating of Sportacus's heart beneath his lips, before working his way up the strong arm, caressing and kissing every inch of bare flesh.

When Robbie reached his boyfriend's shoulder he stopped and picked up Sportacus's other arm, repeating the process starting again at the hand and working his way up.  
The elf's breathing had become slow and rhythmic, much like when he meditated, and his eyes had drifted shut. Pretty soon he was purring contentedly.

The fae kissed his way up one side of Sportacus's neck and flicked out his tongue to lick up round the shell of a pointed ear. The elf let out a breathy moan.

"Oh I _love_ these things…" Robbie grinned, taking the tip of the ear into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth. Sportacus whined.  
Robbie stayed nibbling, sucking and massaging the ear until Sportacus's breathing became unsteady and his involuntary moans more pronounced before releasing the appendage. He grasped Sportacus's head between his hands, careful not to touch the ears, and held it steady as he worked his way across his boyfriend's face.

First he kissed along the jaw line, then over each cheek. He pressed a kiss to each temple, and buried his nose into the fragrant curls to peck along the hairline. He traced the line of each eyebrow and bestowed the lightest of kisses onto each of Sportacus's closed eyelids.  
By the time he finished with a fluttering peck to the tip of his nose, Sportacus's breathing had returned to it's even, meditative state.

Robbie grinned mischievously and set to work on the other sensitive ear. Soon he had the elf squirming where he sat. Once he felt he had been fair in his attention to this ear, he pulled away. Sportacus bemoaned the loss of contact, eyes open and imploring.   
Robbie licked his lips at the sight of the elf's raging erection, full and dripping between his legs.

He chuckled. "We haven't even started yet. You're not allowed to cum until I say so."

Sportacus whimpered but nodded his agreement.

The fae coaxed his boyfriend to brace himself with his hands behind him, angling his chest slightly flatter whilst keeping his back clear of the bed.

Robbie began by latching himself onto the area just above Sportacus's collar bone and sucked hard. Once he felt sure that a decent love bite would form he moved over to mirror it on the other side. He licked a long stripe all the way up the centre of Sportacus's throat to his jaw, and then all the way down again to the valley between his strong pecks. The elf tasted faintly of salt, although less than usual given he hadn't been exercising in a few days.

Without warning Robbie bit down on one of Sportacus's nipples. The elf howled and bucked into the air. Robbie soothed it with a quick lick.   
He repeated the action on the other side. The elf managed to suppress his shout but his hips bucked up again. Robbie moved on from the sensitive nipples regretfully, they were always _such fun_ to play with, but he needed Sportacus to hold on.

He kissed his way down the elf's stomach as far as he could without bumping his nose on the bobbing erection. Sportacus was leaking precum in earnest now.  
Robbie quickly ran a long finger up the underside of the swollen cock and sucked the tip of it into his mouth. He swirled his tongue once around the head and then pulled off it.  
Sportacus bucked wildly at the loss and made a guttural, desperate sound.

"Robbieeee…" he whined.

The fae guided him to turn over and lie on his front across the bed. Sportacus hissed as his weeping erection pressed against the silken fabric of the sheets. He bucked again before his weight settled, trapping his cock underneath him.

Robbie climbed off the bed and crouched down at the end of it next to Sportacus's feet. He kissed each toe in turn and then the soft skin of the arch. At the ankles he switched to his hands and massaged with strong fingers up each of Sportacus's muscular legs in turn. He could feel the elf purring into a pillow.  
Once he'd worked his way up each leg in turn, Robbie turned his attention to the pale, round globes of Sportacus's gloriously muscular arse. He massaged the cheeks firmly with his fingers for a while before parting them to get a glimpse of his prize.

He licked once across the puckered hole. The purring stopped as Sportacus's breath hitched.  
Robbie leaned over and grabbed some lube from the drawer by his bedside and quickly slicked up his fingers. He pressed a long finger straight in past the ring of muscle, enjoying the urgent mewl it drew from his lover, and quickly followed it with a second.  
He wiggled and manipulated his fingers, stretching Sportacus's hole in preparation. The elf ground back against his hand, trying to sink his fingers deeper in.

"Impatient…" Robbie growled, removing his fingers and pouring out more lube onto his hand, slicking himself with it. He had been achingly hard from the moment Sportacus had started purring, but unlike the insatiable elf, prided himself in his self-control.

He braced his legs either side of Sportacus's hips and guided the tip of his penis to the waiting, twitching entrance. 

"Pleaseeee…" the elf moaned helplessly, pushing his hips up, desperately seeking contact.

Robbie tutted, placing his hand on Sportacus's hips, holding him down.

"No manners…" he muttered as he pushed forward just enough for the tip to enter the shaking elf.

Sportacus squeaked which struck Robbie as being rather adorable.

He allowed himself to get sucked in a little more as the elf keened. Before he reached halfway he pulled out almost the whole way before sinking in slowly again.  
The fae repeated this several times, on each occasion allowing himself to push in slightly further until eventually he was holstered up to the base.

"Remember I'm gonna fuck you slowly until you can do nothing but beg," Robbie drawled, "and I forbid you to cum until I say it's ok."

Sportacus panted and murmured into the pillow, trying and failing to move his hips.

Robbie pulled out slowly, relishing the squeeze that travelled up his entire length, before pushing slowly all the way back in. He repeated this a few times, careful not to change the pace, keeping his firm hold of Sportacus's hips. There would probably be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow but he knew his lover wouldn't mind.

The fae continued his torturous ministrations for a considerable while, enjoying the heat slowly rising within him, relishing the change from their usual hard and fast encounters. Beneath him the elf was coming undone, writhing and moaning beneath him.

"P..pl.please… Robbie," Sportacus pleaded, "please.. more, I need… to…"

"Not yet." Robbie growled, the sound of Sportacus begging flooding straight to his dick, "Not until I say."

He was really close now, the elf's pleading words having brought him to the edge. He quickened the pace slightly, sliding in and out rhythmically, angling to brush against the elf's prostate. The change made Sportacus shout with surprise and Robbie felt his lover squeezing around him.

That proved the final undoing for Robbie Rotten and he came inside the elf with a grunt. Sportacus mewled and bucked as he pulled out and clambered off him.

Robbie rested back against the headboard and gathered the elf into his arms.

"Remember I said I wanted to look you in the eye when you came." He said, kissing Sportacus's dry lips.

He dropped one hand down and grasped Sportacus firmly around the base. The elf screamed, screwing up his eyes and throwing his head back at the long overdue stimulation.

"Uh uh," Robbie chastised, "eyes open love. I want to see you."

The elf forced his eyes open and Robbie began stroking him lazily as a reward. Sportacus keened softly.

"Please… Robbie… I'm so… I don't know how much longer… I can hold on."

Robbie looked deep into the blue pools of Sportacus's eyes and flicked his thumb across the weeping slit on the top of Sportacus's cock.

The elf shuddered, but kept his eyes open, "Please…"

"Ok," Robbie smiled, "You may cum now, cum for me my love."

He pumped Sportacus firmly up and down as the elf twisted and seized as his orgasm overtook him, guiding him through it. It was a sight he would never forget.  
Everything about Sportacus in that moment was utterly beautiful and completely perfect.

The elf finished and collapsed into his arms twitching.

"Tha- was so gd -obbie" He mumbled into the fae's chest. Robbie kissed the top of his head through the curls.

"I'm glad Sportaslut, we can do that again sometime I promise."

Sportacus hummed his approval.

"I love you so much…"

Robbie stroked his fingers through the golden hair. Sportacus made such delicious noises when he was being teased… next time he'd have to set aside a whole day and do it properly. He wondered how long he could make Sportacus last.

He settled back cuddling his purring boyfriend and rocking them gently. He couldn't wait until he had the time to find out.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you Glanni/Ithro fans out there, I hope this was satisfactory. 
> 
> I want to give a particular shout out to TheGYouLoveToHate who basically predicted this four chapters ago XD
> 
> " _TheGYouLoveToHate on Chapter 12_  
>  So uhhh. Is he [Glanni] gonna top ithro at some point? Lol. Would probably be fun to have glanni do the same thing ithro did to him. Even better if ithro ends up loving it. We know how bad he wants it"
> 
> Y'all are awesome <3


	17. The Avengers Assemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three elves and two fae walk into a lair...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh go on then, here's one more chapter XD
> 
> Just a reminder, for anyone who is confused:  
> Íþróttaálfurinn/Íþró/Number Eight - Sportacus's brother  
> Íþrótt/Number Three - not related to Sportacus

Sportacus awoke draped across his boyfriend, having enjoyed a full night's sleep in his bed for the first time. It was bliss.

Normally Sportacus would be up out of bed and moving immediately upon waking, but he'd never before had such a compelling reason to stay in bed as the naked gloriousness that was currently acting as his pillow. He wrapped his arms tighter around Robbie's torso and nuzzled his face into the hollow under his chin. Maybe a few more minutes wouldn't kill him.

He allowed the smooth rising and falling of Robbie's chest to lull him back into a doze. He was warm and comfortable and truly content, and soon he was purring. Sportacus hadn't had much cause to purr until he and Robbie had started spending more time together but now he didn't know how he could ever have lived without doing it. There was just something so wonderfully safe about being cradled in Robbie's arms, knowing that he was loved and cared for.

But Sportacus knew that the moment couldn't last forever. Soon Íþrótt would return to tell them what he had found out and so now it was time to get up. More importantly it was time to wake Robbie up, not a task that Sportacus relished particularly. 

He pushed himself up and leaned over to kiss his boyfriend.

"Robbie wake up," he whispered, kissing him again, "Robbie it's morning now. We have to wake up."

The fae gumbled and frowned as his consciousness slowly returned to the surface.  
"Wha- mmm?" He grumbled as he awoke.

Sportacus leaned over and kissed him again.

"Come and smile to the world with me."

Robbie's eyes flew open.

"What!?"

Sportacus giggled. He patted the fae on the belly.

"Come on, we need to get up now. Íþrótt will be here soon."

Robbie groaned and muttered something about 'more bloody elves' but allowed himself to be pulled from the bed. Not that he'd really have been able to resist had Sportacus truly been intent on moving him.

Together they moved around each other, gathering discarded clothes and negotiating turns in the bathroom. It was, Sportacus thought to himself, as though they'd been together their whole lives. The thought made him tingle inside. But the reality was even better; this was the first day of the rest of their lives.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Number Three of the Order of Numbered Heroes tied his balloon to the base of the billboard and dropped down into the cavernous space he'd been told was Robbie Rotten's lair.  
Someone was waiting for him, reclining louchely in the solitary armchair.

He nodded a greeting. "Glæpur."

"Íþrótt…" the fae acknowledged, stretching the syllables in a low drawl.

Before he could ask after any of the others, a door at the back of the room opened and Number Ten emerged hand in hand with the lair-owner himself. 

Glanni Glæpur leapt up so he was standing on the arms of the chair and threw his arms up cheering and whooping.  
"There they are, the _lovebirds_! I hope your elf took it like a CHAMP! _Just_ like mine did. HA!"

"Shut up Glanni!" 

Íþrótt could see the fae - Robbie, beginning to blush. Number Ten however, was already bright red.

Glanni jumped down and embraced the couple, kissing them each on the cheek.

"Oh you should've heard him, whimpering and moaning as he squirmed." Glanni exclaimed gleefully, "Aren't elves so wonderfully vocal brother!?"

Robbie chuckled a little but stopped when Sportacus glared at him. Glanni cackled gleefully.

Íþrótt cleared his throat, sensing that the situation was in danger of getting out of hand.

"Gentlemen. Do we know when Number Eight is likely to arrive?" He looked towards Glanni, "I trust you invited him?"

The fae merely grinned in response, a confident, unnerving smile, and stretched a hand upwards. He clicked his fingers once.

A few seconds later the sound of someone dropping down the entrance pipe filtered down into the space. A pair of boots landed and they all turned to see Íþróttaálfurinn standing awkwardly where he'd landed.

"I err… the hatch just opened…" he fiddled with the crystal on the end of his hat.

"Welcome Number Eight." Íþrótt greeted, "glad you could join us."

"Number Three!" Íþróttaálfurinn seemed shocked, glancing between him and Sportacus nervously, "What is this?"

Íþrótt addressed him gravely, "There is a dire situation in the elf lands which I have called us together, hopefully, to tackle."  
He outlined briefly the situation with the changelings that he'd explained the day before for Number Eight's benefit, with Glanni chipping in occasionally with additional details. By the time he'd finished Íþróttaálfurinn's eyes were as wide as saucers.  
"So," he concluded, "the question was 'what are we going to do about it'?"

He gestured for everyone to make themselves comfortable.   
The three elves settled themselves readily on the floor while Robbie curled up next to Sportacus and Glanni draped himself across the fluffy chair.

"I have a plan, and it will take all of us. Briefly," he paused, "Number Ten and his notorious fae lover will go on the run, becoming wanted fugitives. Number Eight and I shall capture them and escort them to the Council. I can only imagine that quite a crowd will gather to see the arrest of a Hero… we shall strike in that moment, all five of us working together. We shall expose the council publicly for what they are - changelings."

Robbie gawked at Íþrótt as though he’d suddenly grown an extra head.   
“I'm sorry your plan is to arrest me and Sportacus and to take him back to that awful place? Do you know what they would do to us?”

Íþrótt waved his hand dismissively, “They wouldn't harm you.”

“How can you know that!?” Robbie shot back. “Last time you walked in there one of you came out shredded!”

“Robbie please-” Sportacus interrupted, voice quiet but full of emotion. 

“This elf is crazy!” Ejaculated Robbie, pointing towards Íþrótt. 

“He's got a point,” Íþróttaálfurinn rasped, “I will not hurt my brother again by throwing him back to the lions. It seems like a reckless gamble.”

“It is the only way to draw a crowd.” Íþrótt interjected, starting to feel slightly annoyed, “Any event they organise will undoubtedly be too controlled an environment to expose them effectively. We need to create an opportunity for them to seize upon impulsively, a spectacle that they will want seen by as many as possible. And we already have the perfect narrative.”

“What, a witch hunt?” Robbie folded his arms. 

“A disgraced Hero, one who was quietly disciplined for illicit but non-specific behaviours who then went home and continued right where he left off! With the proper leverage they will have every excuse to denounce you.”

“But…” Sportacus started hesitantly, “they don't know that I've been seeing Robbie…”

“Use your brain boy!” Íþrótt growled. Could none of them see what he himself found so obvious?   
“Your airship is covered in cameras. It was designed by changelings, built by changelings, programmed by changelings. They've probably got some poor sod whose job it is to watch you at all times. Of course they know what you've been doing. They'll denounce you sooner or later when it suits them, but if we act now we can have them do it when it suits _us_!”  
He slammed his hand down on the floor to emphasise his point. 

“Forgive me, but do I need to be here for this?” A sultry voice drawled, “If I'm not going to be playing a part I'd much rather catch up on sleep somewhere that isn't here. I'm all tuckered out after yesterday.”  
Glanni winked at Íþróttaálfurinn from his reclined position in the armchair.

“You will be a part of the crowd who gather.” Íþrótt addressed Glanni. “You must find out what magic it is keeping the changelings hidden and release an antidote when they're all distracted.”

“Oh so just a little job then,” Glanni rolled his eyes, “much less fun than being roughed around by two hunky elves. Let me trade jobs with you brother.”

“Glæpur you will cease this mirth!” Íþrótt shouted, his exasperation showing through clearly, “You have a strong affinity for magic, glamours especially, you are far the best suited to this task. Every one of us must play to their strengths to succeed.”

“But how will we force the Council into declaring them fugitives?” Íþróttaálfurinn interjected and Íþrótt turned to face him. 

“You will persuade them Number Eight. You brought them your brother last time and acted with the full passion of your convictions.” On the other side of the circle Íþrótt saw Sportacus wince out of the corner of his eye.   
“You must adopt this attitude again, approach them enraged with some new evidence and beg to be allowed to hunt them down. It must appear as though you truly despise your brother.”

Íþróttaálfurinn’s mouth grew hard and he shook his head.   
“I won’t do it. Not again… I cannot.”

“Well I say it's a stinking plan!” Robbie shouted, “Completely too dangerous and entirely reliant on luck. Sportacus and I will end up in elf prison forever, I can see it now.”

"I'll do it." Everyone turned to look at Sportacus. Robbie and Number Eight both looked at him with terrified expressions but the young elf looked determined, Íþrótt noted smugly.

"I can't say I'm not worried about your plan Íþrótt, but it is as you say, the best chance we've got. Either way I shall lose my Number but I have something now that is more precious to me than this." He took Robbie's hand into his own and held it up for all to see.   
"So I shall return to the elf lands and stand before the council. But I shall do it alone. Robbie stays here, where he is safe."

"Not likely!" Robbie interrupted, pulling their clasped hands back down, "There's no way I'm sitting here while you go off to suffer goodness only knows what. No, if you're going then I'm going with you!"

“Robbie-” Sportacus began before he was interrupted by his lover. 

“Sportacus I won't hear another word on this, it's either neither of us, or both of us. We're a team. I cannot lose you.”

"Good, so that's settled." Íþrótt resolved before the argument went any further, "Any more objections?"

Íþróttaálfurinn puffed out his chest. "If Sportacus and… his partner… are going then I shall go with them. I shall protect them with my life. But I shall not tell the Council that I hate my brother to rile them up, I won't risk them hurting him again."

Sportacus slid on his knees over to his brother and placed an earnest hand on his cheek.

"But you must do it Íþró! Don't you see it's the perfect excuse? I shall know you will not mean what you say, but you must say it, and they must believe it. Íþrótt is right, it is our best chance!"

Íþróttaálfurinn shook his head. "I cannot hurt you again, my heart has not stopped breaking since the last time."

Sportacus took Íþróttaálfurinn's hand and placed it over his heart. "I am here Íþró, I am happy, healthy and alive. You will not hurt me again, I know you won't. I trust you."

“How can you trust me when I do not trust myself?” Íþróttaálfurinn’s voice was uncharacteristically thin. 

“You're my brother Íþró, my big brother. You'll always be my hero.”

Íþrótt could see from where he was sat an understanding seem to pass between them and a single tear roll down Íþróttaálfurinn’s cheek. When he spoke again, his voice trembled. 

"I'll do it. If you want me to, I'll do it."

Sportacus wiped the tear from his brother’s cheek with his thumb.  
"Thank you Íþró."

“And what about you Glæpur? Will you lend your expertise to our cause?" Number Three asked hastily.

Glanni shrugged, "Sure why not. Sounds like a laugh."

"Well that's settled then. I suggest we all get a bite to eat and move around a bit, do a few exercises." The elves looked heartened while the fae both grumbled. "Then we can reconvene and go over the plan in detail. This is a historic day gentlemen - if we succeed, we shall prevent a war."

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of many chapters where I am forced to accept that they are all idiots. They're all so dumb. No braincells.
> 
> Do we feel confident about this plan?   
> Also, did anyone spot the cheeky reference to a lazytown song?


	18. Setting The Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie and Sportacus go on the run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, everyone, for all your amazing comments! They're giving me life!
> 
> For anyone wondering the reference to the Lazytown song I alluded to in the last chapter was this quote:  
> "Come and smile to the world with me."  
> Inspired by the Lazytown song 'Wake Up' (one of my favourites).
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this next chapter. I love this one personally XD

First thing the next morning Íþróttaálfurinn set off for the elf lands in his balloon. The plan was settled, they'd all spoken about it in detail. Everyone knew their parts.

Sportacus's part, this morning, was to introduce Íþrótt to the kids and to say goodbye. Hopefully he'd be able to come back and see them before long, but there was no guarantee he'd ever be able to return officially as their Hero. The thought made him sad, the kids were the best thing about his job.

Together they located the children over at the playground. Sportacus plastered a smile across his face.

"Hi guys!"

"Hello Sportacus!" The children all ran to him gleefully, jumping and waving. 

"I would love for you to meet my new friend. This is Íþrótt, he's another Hero like me!" Sportacus gestured to Íþrótt who was standing next to him confidently in his superhero pose. 

“Is he your brother too?” Stephanie enquired, staring closely at both of them. Sportacus laughed. 

“No Stephanie, Íþrótt is not my brother, just a good friend.”

“But you look so similar!”

The two elves blinked in surprise. Did they? Maybe humans couldn't see all the subtle differences.

“Why are you here Eprot?” Ziggy ran up to the older elf and tugged at his trousers. “Are you here to play with us while Sportacus is sick?”

Íþrótt bent down to Ziggy's level and plucked the lollipop out of his hand.  
"I am here to teach you how to make healthy choices, to eat good food, move around lots and take your fish oil."

The children all screwed up their noses in disgust. Ziggy's upper lip began to tremble.  
Sportacus gritted his teeth, it wasn't his place to comment on the training methods of other Heroes, particularly such senior ones as Number Three, but it did strike him as being rather old fashioned. He hoped the kids would adjust as quickly as they had for his brother.

"Don't worry kids! I'll be back as soon as I can. Just listen to Íþrótt and he will look after you."

Sensing the potential for tears, Sportacus began to extract himself from the throng. He had to prise Ziggy off his leg and promise Stingy several more times that he would be back, but eventually he was able to get away.

At lunchtime Íþrótt would take them all inside - probably to force feed them all raw fish he thought, and he and Robbie would make their move.  
He glanced up to where his airship floated silently against the sky. It had never struck him as a sinister sight before, but now it sent shivers down his spine.

  
  
  


* * *

The time had come. Robbie had verified through his periscope that all the children were safely indoors with that Number Three elf and all of Lazy Town was quiet.

He turned to his boyfriend who squeezed his hand gently. Even though they'd discussed it at length and Sportacus had given his wholehearted and trusting permission, the idea of covering him in a glamour just felt wrong.

"Do it now Robbie, just think of it like it's one of your schemes." Sportacus spoke quietly, sensing his discomfort.  
"You know my love is genuine, nothing can ever change that."

Robbie kissed the elf, hungry for affirmation and reassurance. Sportacus returned the kiss with all that and more. He looked deeply and seriously into Sportacus's eyes.

"I love you."

The elf smiled, "I know. I love you too. Now hurry up, we should get this over with."

Robbie placed his hands on either side of Sportacus's head and stroked one of his cheeks with his thumb. He pressed a kiss to his forehead.  
"Don't fight it love, just let me consume you…" his voice started as a whisper but changed as he spoke, becoming smoother, more seductive, commanding.  
"I am your whole world, you want nothing more than to please me. You crave me, you trust me. You will follow me anywhere. Your thoughts are my thoughts. I own every part of you."

Robbie could see Sportacus's eyes had become hazy, unfocused, and knew that he would be seeing a magically enhanced reality. To Sportacus the world would seem out of focus and uninteresting, except for Robbie. The fae would appear to him as the most beautiful and interesting thing in the world, the only person he'd be able to focus on.

He'd laid it on thick, and as his lover wasn't resisting so the glamour was all consuming. Sportacus was effectively his puppet.

Robbie swallowed down the feelings of unease and took a moment to get into character. He and Sportacus were both dressed in their usual attire, plus harnesses and backpacks containing the parachutes. Robbie wasn't thrilled about the idea of throwing himself off a great height, but knowing the sports elf was right there to catch him had put his mind slightly at ease.  
The more compelling reason was the little canister in his pocket. When would he ever have an excuse to do this again? If he had to parachute afterwards, so be it. This was going to be fun.

Robbie clambered up the pipe to the surface himself, resisting the urge to have Sportacus carry him for the sake of his healing back. He knew that the elf had no way to resist should he give him an order and so was mindful not to tell him to do anything that would injure him further.

"I want to see your ship," he crooned once they reached the surface, "bring down that little pod so we can ride up there."

"Yes Robbie, anything, of course. Right away!"

Sportacus pressed some buttons on his arm bracer and called for the fly pod. Soon it had descended and hovered just in front of the billboard.

Robbie gestured for Sportacus to hop in and clambered up onto his lap, trying to arrange his long legs into the tiny space.

"This was not built for people of any reasonable height!" he grumbled.

Poking out from below him the elf looked up with large, questioning eyes. Oh yeah…

"Take me up to your ship like a good little elf… imagine all the things I could do to you up there…"

Sportacus's eyes fluttered closed for a second and he groaned, beginning to pedal the fly pod with all his might. Being sat in his lap, Robbie could feel the elf hardening against his behind.  
It had been so long since the fae had done a glamour on anyone, he was a bit out of practice. He supposed he should probably have foreseen how sexual it might become, especially given how they were already lovers.  
Still, he thought, one little erection won’t hurt him, and it might add a touch of realism to the performance.

In no time at all the pod was docking with the airship and Robbie caught his first glimpse inside.   
It was entirely white and smooth! Robbie observed with surprise, not at all what he might’ve expected. He’d always pictured a sort of studio gym, with a large comfortable bed, many exercise machines and an above average number of house plants.   
Such as it was there was nothing, no bed or furniture, just blank white walls. How depressing. 

“Sportacus." An emotionless female voice cut through the air as Robbie clambered out of the pod, "You did not return last night. It is important for you to lie down to sleep at 8:08 every night."

The elf hopped out of the pod and stood next to Robbie, staring up at him.

"Sportacus, my sensors indicate the presence of fae magic. Likelihood of it negatively affecting your judgement - 98%. Reminder: visitors are not permitted on board."

"Shut up! Stupid machine!" Robbie bellowed, allowing himself to sink into the character. "I am here to send a message to the Elf Council. I demand access!"

The emotionless female voice replied promptly, "Request information: Who seeks an audience?"

The fae puffed his chest out haughtily, "I am Robbie Rotten! I demand to speak to the Elf Council."

There was a brief pause before the airship replied again. Beside him, Sportacus stared up at Robbie lovingly, unmoving, seemingly unaware of his surroundings.

"Welcome Mr. Rotten. Engaging internal cameras. The Council can see and hear you."

Showtime.  
Robbie grabbed Sportacus by the back of the neck and roughly pushed him to his knees in front of him. The elf's hat came loose in the process and he pinched one of the pointed ears harshly, causing a whimper from the kneeling man. He noted that Sportacus's erection had only grown since their arrival.

Not knowing where the camera was, he raised his head and addressed himself to the air.  
"COUNCIL OF ELVES! I am ROBBIE ROTTEN, resident FAE of Lazy Town! You have DAMAGED MY PROPERTY!"  
He shook Sportacus roughly by the ear which made him squeak and cry out.  
"I WILL NOT stand for it!"

He released his grip on Sportacus's ear. The elf continued kneeling obediently, bowing his head.

"If I had wanted a broken, obedient, slave of an elf then I would've GLAMOURED HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE! He used to be so…" Robbie stroked through the blond hair lovingly, "...so responsive, so wilful…"

He removed his hand and kicked Sportacus in the side, sending him crashing to the floor. The elf let him, reacting only with a pained gasp.

"You returned him depressed, bleeding and BORING! I had to glamour him just so he would stop CRYING!"

Robbie stepped back, breathing heavily. Sportacus lay where he had fallen, rocking gently on his side, erection tenting his uniform trousers obviously. They couldn't have planned a better show if they'd tried. But it was time for the finale.

"So consider this payback. You damage my things and I'll _destroy_ yours." He pointed a long finger towards the groove in the wall that he assumed outlined the exterior door.  
"Elf. Get the door open."

Sportacus leapt to his feet, "Yes Robbie, of course Robbie."

He watched as the elf practically skipped over to the door and pushed the button to open it. Robbie slipped the canister out of his pocket and twisted the top to activate it. He placed it carefully onto the floor in the centre of the room and turned quickly to the door.

"You, out!" He ordered, pushing Sportacus through the opening and following him through it. Behind him he could hear the cool voice of the airship speaking out into the space.

"Warning. Dangerous chemical device detected. Recommend immediate evacuation!"

Robbie pushed his boyfriend off the gangplank and allowed the glamour to dissipate as he tumbled away. The height made his head spin and his stomach turn but now was not the time to lose his nerve.

Robbie took a deep breath, and leapt into the air.

The journey back down to the ground was terrifying, but Robbie took solace in seeing his lover's blue parachute floating safely below his. The wind carried them each past the boundary of the town where they each touched down in an empty, green field.   
Sportacus came running to meet him and he picked himself up off the floor.

"Robbie! Are you-?"

Behind them, high in the sky, the airship exploded.

Sportacus's mouth fell open, eyes glued to the flaming sphere that had once been his home. Even though they'd both been aware of what the plan entailed, it was another thing entirely watching the engulfed wreckage begin to fall. They'd done the calculations, it shouldn't fall on the town, but still seeing the inferno plummeting to the ground was something else.

Robbie placed an arm around Sportacus's shoulders.  
"Come on love, it's time to go."

Sportacus nodded sadly, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He allowed Robbie to guide him away, abandoning their parachutes in the field, towards the road leading out of the town.

The elf flinched as a sickening crunch from behind them signalled the final end for the airship. Robbie rubbed his arm sympathetically but continued hurrying them along. He was impatient to check to see if the glamour had lifted properly.

It wasn't long before they reached the lane where an expensive looking black car was waiting for them.  
Glanni stuck his head out of the driver side window.

"Ha HA. That was a big one boys! I'm proud of you." He cackled gleefully, "Get in losers, let's bounce!"

Robbie opened the back door and pushed the elf onto the back seat, climbing in after him. Before he had even pulled the door closed, Glanni was speeding away leaving Lazy Town in the dust behind them.

Robbie pulled Sportacus close to him, wrapping his arms around him and murmuring soothing sounds. All of the glamour magic had successfully dissipated but Robbie knew that being released from one could sometimes be a bit of a shock to the system.  
The adrenaline from the parachute jump was still coursing through him, himself, and Robbie let out a few long, slow breaths.

“It’s ok, it’s ok, come back to me, shhhh.” Robbie murmured under his breath. Slowly Sportacus began to relax beneath his touch and by the time the car turned onto the motorway, the elf was sound asleep. 

  
  


* * *

_Sportacus was dangling in mid-air, suspended by his hands which were tied above him. He couldn’t make out what he was hanging from and it occurred to him that he couldn’t remember how he got here._

_His whole body heaved with the effort of breathing, fighting against gravity for every breath, legs kicking but it was stragely like they were stuck together. He looked down, oh - they were tied too._

_Sportacus wriggled like a worm stuck on the end of a fishing line. Below him dark cold waters thrashed and bubbled under his feet, sharp grey fins circling._

_A featureless female voice laughed behind him. He tried to gain momentum to turn around but could find no purchase with his hands and feet bound as they were._

_“Warning. Deviant fae glamour detected. Recommend immediate destruction!”_

_“I can’t move!” The stricken elf cried, Help me please I can’t move!”_

_The voice laughed again, cruel and mocking._

_“Dropping in three, two...”_

_Sportacus screamed, struggling desperately to get free._

_“One. Release!”_

_Sportacus was falling... falling. The descent seemed to go on forever and for a brief moment of hope he thought he might never hit the water until..._

_SPLASH!_

_The sharks were on him in a second, tearing at his flesh with their needle sharp teeth. Chunks of his legs and arms were torn straight off, his back burned with the scraping bites of the huge rows of pointed teeth._

_The water bubbled red around him and his consciousness fell away into darkness._

_He was screaming... screaming..._

“Wake up Sportacus! Wake up!”

Robbie grasped Sportacus’s arms in an attempt to still his flailing limbs. The elf had suddenly started screaming and jerking in his sleep, surprising Robbie out of his own doze. 

“Wake up Sportahoney you’re only dreaming.”

Robbie supposed he should’ve expected this. Maybe he shouldn’t’ve laid the glamour on so thickly as it was the first time. Everyone reacted differently, but given that Sportacus had been through a lot recently, it was to be expected that he would have a rough come down. 

“Hey! Can’t you shut him up back there?” Glanni called from the front of the car. 

Robbie cursed and shook the elf more vigorously. 

“Wake UP Sportacus!”

Sportacus went suddenly still as his eyes snapped open. Robbie could feel that he was coiled like a spring. 

He kept his voice low and calming, “It was just a dream Sportalove, just a bad dream… you’re fine.”

“...where ‘m I?” Sportacus mumbled blearily. 

“About 30 miles beyond Mayhem Town, heading east!” Glanni called from the front. 

“Glanni’s helping us get away, remember?” 

Sportacus nodded and settled back against his boyfriend. Robbie pulled him close. 

The rest of the journey went uneventfully, and eventually Glanni turned off the main roads and pulled up to a secluded estate guarded by high fences and large, elaborate gates. The sign announced that they had arrived at Glæpur Glamping's premiere campsite. The gates opened without prompting, and Glanni drove through them with confidence.  
The woodland beyond hosted a series of quaint wooden chalets, nestled amongst the trees. 

"Welcome to your new home lads!" Glanni grinned, pulling up alongside one of the chalets. 

He flicked a set of keys over his shoulder which Robbie caught with long, nimble fingers. The tag read 'GG Chalet Number Ten.'

"Very funny Glanni." He glared.

"What!?" His brother pouted, attempting a wide eyed innocent look. It didn't work. "Number Sixty Nine was taken!"

The two lovers clambered out of the car, Robbie hovering over Sportacus worryingly. The elf seemed more himself now but had remained uncharacteristically quiet on the journey over. He looked vulnerable with his hair and ears exposed, having lost his uniform hat in the airship. Robbie felt a twinge of guilt at that, he hadn't thought to pack a spare.

Together they hauled the bags they'd each packed with essentials out of the boot of the car and closed all the doors. Glanni leaned out.

"Farewell kids, have fun. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do." He winked, "If you need anything feel free to call reception. Tell them you're with Rikki, you'll get everything you need."

And like that Glanni was gone. So this was it, they were on the run.  
Sportacus shivered against the cool dusk wind and together they headed up the steps towards the chalet. The first day of the rest of their lives.

  
  
  
  



	19. The Wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ithro plays his part, the lovers settle in and the children explore.

Íþróttaálfurinn strode quickly through the twisting hallways of the citadel at the heart of the elf lands, on his way to the central garden and the Council Chamber in the middle of it. News had reached him upon his arrival that the Council was in uproar and that he had been summoned to stand before them as soon as possible.  
His heart was beating double time and anxiety threatened to overwhelm him. He was here because he had a job to do, but it was not a task he would take any joy in completing. Quite the opposite in fact. He was here to betray his little brother for the second time.

Íþróttaálfurinn breezed past the guards and into the garden. The air was thick with the fragrant sparkles of the elven flowers and the birds sang their farewell to the setting sun.

There in the centre, as always, was the white marble rotunda - shaped like a tree and topped with a glass crystal dome. Inside, he knew, sat the Council who were, he had been convinced, mostly changelings in disguise. But that was not his concern today, he had a part to play, a part that would hopefully reveal the council members for what they truly were, and help prevent a war.

The guards opened the doors to the rotunda as he approached and before he knew it he was staring up at the many faces of the Council once again.

"Number Eight!" The council elf in the centre stood to address him without hesitation. "Have you come directly from Lazy Town?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Then can you explain why, since your departure, Number Ten has assisted in the destruction of his own airship and run away in the company of that same fae he was disciplined for knowing?"

Íþróttaálfurinn gasped. He'd known that Sportacus and Robbie were due to make a memorable exit from Lazy Town, but destroying his airship? That seemed a little extreme. Certainly one of the fae had come up with the idea.

"I...I cannot." He admitted, "I came merely to make a report on the unstable situation involving my br- Number Ten. Had I known he would do something like this… I never would've left!"

"But you did leave." The council elf continued sharply, "So make your report. We must establish the facts before we decide how to act."

Íþróttaálfurinn took a deep breath, head spinning with the words he'd rehearsed so many times on the journey over.

"Number Ten returned to Lazy Town more determined than ever to flaunt the Council's expectations. He neglected the children of the town in favour of the fae, he spent hours at a time down in the fae's lair. I arrived after a few days, to check up on him. I tried to reason with him but he kept going off with that fae. I suspected he was too far gone and so I made preparations to come here. I didn't know he would… what did they do?"

"See for yourself…"

The council elf pointed to the back wall and Íþróttaálfurinn turned to see the familiar screen flicker into life. It was clearly a video taken from the inside of Sportacus's airship, with his brother and his brother's lover as the main characters. He watched as the fae kicked and shook his little brother around but more disturbing was the admission that Sportacus had been placed under a glamour. By the looks of things it was a real one, he doubted little Sport was that good of an actor, and the idea filled him with cold dread.   
Intellectually he knew that this was an act, it would all have been pre-planned and discussed, but it was very convincing.  
Íþróttaálfurinn swallowed down the multitude of emotions rising within him as he watched the fae push his brother out of the airship and leap out after him, leaving behind only a smoking, fizzing canister. Slowly the airship filled with smoke, and then very suddenly the camera cut out.

"So Number Eight. What do you say to that?"

Íþróttaálfurinn's mind reeled. His voice, when he spoke, was husky and unsure. He didn't quite know if he was acting or merely reacting, but he said what he knew he had to say.

"He's out of control…"

He cleared his throat.   
"Number Ten has gone rogue, he's a liability. Both he and that fae have brought our entire system, our entire _species_ , into disrepute. He has given up any claim he may have had upon his Number."

The words twisted around his heart but he knew he had to say them.

"He must be stopped."

"Our thoughts exactly." A variety of council elves grinned down at him sinisterly.   
"An example should be made."

This was it, you couldn't ask for a better lead in.  
"If I may? You should declare them both fugitives. Publish that a former Numbered Hero is wanted for crimes in defiance of the Council. Spread the message far and wide and…" he paused, "...send me to hunt them down."

"You would arrest your own brother?"

"I have done so before and I beg to be the one to do it again. He has not only disgraced himself, but he has betrayed me. I do not want to be tarnished with the same brush. I promise I shall bring him to you. Him and the fae."

The council elf smiled cruelly, "So be it then. Number Seven is close to the elf lands, you can take her with you."

"If you'll forgive me, I have already enlisted the help of Number Three. I asked him to check in with the children in Lazy Town. He will want to help bring Ten in, I am sure."

"Very well. Take Number Three. Keep in regular contact to update us on your progress."

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded, "I shall."

The council elf addressed the room at large.

"Let it be known, from this moment on that the elf 'Sportacus', formally known as Number Ten of the Order of Numbered Heroes, is declared to be a criminal and a traitor to his own people. Both he, and the fae Robbie Rotten whom he is travelling with, are to be considered dangerous fugitives. An order has been issued for their arrest and Heroes sent to apprehend them.   
The Council has spoken."

The council elf looked down at him from his pedestal up on the high wall.

"Go Number Eight. Bring back our prize."

Íþróttaálfurinn bowed his head respectfully and turned to leave the room. Behind him he could hear the shuffling of moving council members. One of them called out after him.

"Good hunting!"

He fled from the room as fast as he dared. The whole ordeal made him feel sick.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sportacus and Robbie set their bags down in the main room of the chalet and immediately collapsed together on the sofa, kicking off their shoes.  
Normally Sportacus would feel restless after a long time being stationary in the back of a vehicle but tonight he just felt tired. Leaving Lazy Town, his home, the people he loved, had all been a bit too much. He felt as though he'd been wrung through a mangle.

Robbie's long arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly.

"You ok love?" The fae asked quietly.

"Yeah… I just… it was my home Robbie. I know it wasn't much, but that airship was where I belonged. And now it is gone because of me."

Sportacus felt long fingers stroking through his messy hair. He felt a stab as he remembered that his hat was now gone too.

"Shhhh, it's ok Sportalove. You'll always have me, and the folk in Lazy Town. You'll never be without a home."

"Thanks Robbie," Sportacus snuggled closer into his boyfriend's chest, "I just worry that maybe we've made a mistake. Perhaps we should've just stayed in Lazy Town. What must the kids be thinking?!"

Robbie snorted, "They're probably thinking 'no I don't want to eat any more fish oil!' But in any case, whether it's a mistake or not, we're here now and there's no going back. But I'm going to be here with you, right by your side, every step of the way. And so's Íþrótt and Glanni, and much as I'm loathe to admit it, so is your brother."

Sportacus smiled and sat up, "You're right. We must keep focused." 

He looked around him, taking in the chalet. The main room seemed pretty standardly equipped, but was luxuriously finished. The sofas, dining table and kitchenette were all of the highest quality and on the other side of the long windows he could see a decking area with a hot tub and outdoor seating surrounding a fire pit.

"What is this place?"

Robbie snorted again, "Glæpur Glamping. For whatever reason my brother appears to own a luxury campsite. It's probably a money laundering thing…"

The fae pushed himself up off the expensive leather sofa and headed towards the door leading to the rest of the chalet. He took a few steps through the door and then stopped.

"I think I've figured out the reason Glanni owns this place…"

Sportacus padded over to him, bare footsteps soft against the deep carpeted floor, and ducked under his arm to get a better look into the space beyond.  
Robbie had stopped in the doorway of what appeared to be the master bedroom and Sportacus followed his gaze to the far wall. Hung up on display along the entire length of the back wall of the chalet was every possible sex toy and kinky implement Sportacus had ever heard of, and a fair few that he hadn't as well.

When Robbie spoke there was a distant quality to his voice, as though he was somehow not quite connected to his body.  
"My brother owns a luxury _sex_ campsite! Of course he does."

Sportacus's mouth fell open in a silent 'oh' of surprise, or possibly recognition. Glanni did seem the type.

"Well," the elf said, putting his hands on his hips confidently, "as you say, we should live in the present moment. We might be here for a day or so, let's not let this opportunity go to waste!"

Behind him Sportacus could hear his boyfriend's breath rumbling in and out of his throat, almost snarling. He turned around and wrapped around him in a passionate kiss. Oh yes, it was going to be a very good night.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Back in Lazy Town Íþrótt had his hands full. 

Although they'd been indoors and hadn't actually seen the airship plummet to the ground, the children were still very on edge about the whole thing. It was, now, the next morning and by the looks of them, none of them had slept any more than a few winks.

"Eprott!" Ziggy whined and pulled at his trousers, "are you sure Sportacus is ok?"

He felt like he'd answered this question a thousand times.

"Yes Ziggy. Sportacus isn't in Lazy Town at the moment, he's gone on a trip."

Ziggy continued to splutter and sniffle. Íþrótt bent down to his level and looked him in the eye.

"What can I do to convince you? Do you want to see the crash site? You will find that there is no one there, I checked. No one was hurt at all."

The children all stared at him with wide eyes. Pixel was nodding furiously, whereas Trixie seemed more excited than anything at the prospect. Stephanie looked grimly determined. Contrastingly Stingy and Ziggy looked as though their world had ended.

"Yes," Stephanie said cautiously, "I think it would be good if we could check for ourselves."

"Plus if I can get hold of a piece of it to make some scans," Pixel added, "I might be able to figure out what happened!"

"Good that's settled. We shall go after breakfast. Make sure you all eat up your fish oil so you will be strong for the walk over there and back again.

The children all pulled faces but sat down to eat with little complaint. It had been a very long time since Number Three had had the opportunity to work so closely with such a small group of children, not now that he was such a high Number, but he thought pleasantly that it was all coming back to him. In some ways it was much more fulfilling work than the diplomatic visits and intercity liaising he was usually stuck doing.  
The thought of eventually becoming Number One, which was largely a ceremonial role, made him feel tired. Perhaps I shall retire early, he thought, find something else to do when this is all over.

After breakfast they struck out for the fields beyond the borders of the town, where the wreckage of the airship now lay. Pixel had stuffed his rucksack with a variety of gadgets which, he assured the group excitedly, would clear up any mystery in no time.

Eventually they crossed into the right field and stopped to take in the sight.

"Cool!" Trixie exclaimed upon seeing the smouldering struts of naked, twisting steel. "It must've crashed real bad!"

"My airship…" Stingy's little voice was hollow.

"Actually, based on preliminary observations," Pixel announced, "it looks like it exploded before it hit the ground!"

"Ex...exploded?" Stingy sounded heartbroken.

"Awesome!" Trixie set off running towards it with glee, "come on guys!"

Íþrótt jogged after her and the rest of the children dutifully traipsed over like a row of ducklings.

All that remained of the balloon portion of the airship were great spiking steel struts which stuck into the ground like a monstrous metal ribcage. The fabric had all burned away and the smaller bracing arms had collapsed inwards onto the pile of rubble that was the remains of the cabin.  
What had once been smooth white walls was now blackened, warped and twisted. Parts of the room had been melted by the heat and were no longer recognisable as the place Íþrótt had spent the night a few days previously.

Pixel set to work immediately, picking up little pieces from the ground and scanning larger areas from afar. After warning them not to go into the central rubble pile, or to touch anything that was likely to still be hot, Íþrótt let them split up to explore the crash site.

Whilst Pixel amused himself making his observations and Trixie set about trying to find pieces that might double as spears or daggers for adventure games, Stingy amused himself by quietly collecting scraps that appealed to him and placing them in his little bag to take home. Once Ziggy had got over the shock he brightened up quite considerably and charged about, leaping over various obstacles, navigating the site like it was a big new adventure playground.

It was Stephanie, however, that made the most important discovery as far as the children were concerned. She called them all over to a spot round the back of the airship.  
There were tears brewing in her eyes as she pointed down into a gap between two large, fallen girders. Trapped down there, half obscured by shadows and dust, was a glimpse of bright blue.

Íþrótt ushered the children back to a safe distance and set about lifting the debris away. Once the hole was big enough, he jumped down and reached to retrieve the object.  
In his hands was a folded scrap of blue fabric with a familiar double white stripe, singed at the edges and sporting a few burnt holes.

“It’s alright kids! It’s just a hat!”

Íþrótt flipped out of the hole and bounced over to the worried band of children.

Stephanie took the hat reverently, turning it over in her hands. 

“This is Sportacus’s hat!” She looked up at Íþrótt with large, worried eyes. “Are you sure he’s not trapped under there?”

Íþrótt rested his leg up on a nearby lump which may well have been the pilot’s seat in a previous life.

“Of course. Remember I checked yesterday, and my crystal never went off, so I know that no one was inside when it went down.”

Stephanie chewed on her lip, “I guess.”

“Poor Sportacus. He never goes anywhere without his hat, and now it’s all burnt, and he doesn’t have a home anymore.” Stephanie looked in danger of crying, and the others seemed quite close behind her.

“Maybe we should head back now.” Íþrótt ventured, sensing a potentially volatile emotional situation brewing, “Why don’t we take Sportacus’s hat back with us so that you can give it to him if he comes back.”

“WHEN he comes back!” Stingy was firm.

“Yes, when he comes back, of course.” Íþrótt agreed, silently hoping that that would indeed be the case.

“I know!” Exclaimed Stephanie brightly, examining the hat in her hands, “What if we fixed the hat for him and mended it so that it’s as good as new for when Sportacus gets back!”

“Yeah!” All the kids agreed, jumping and whooping with excitement.

“Aaah… and could we make Sportacus a new house, eh Stephanie, could we?” Ziggy jumped around at their feet.

“That’s a great idea Ziggy! There are plenty of empty houses in Lazy Town. We could fix up one of those so it’s ready for Sportacus to live in!”

Stephanie seemed ecstatic. With a good project to keep them occupied, Íþrótt reasoned he would be able to leave them to their own devices when the time soon came for his part in the plan. They were good kids, he mused, kind hearted and mostly healthy. Number Ten had done well with them. He would be sorry to leave Lazy Town, but the world needed him more.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Glaepur Glamping. When I came up with the concept for it I must've laughed for about 20 minutes.  
> It was originally just a one liner when Glanni answered the phone - I never planned for any action to take place there, but I'm glad that's the way the story went.
> 
> Much love to you all <3


	20. Silence Is Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ithro joins Sportacus, Robbie and Glanni at Glaepur Glamping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a smutty one peeps!

It wasn't until just after lunchtime the next day that Íþróttaálfurinn arrived at Glæpur Glamping. Sportacus welcomed him warmly into their chalet, while Robbie called reception to leave a message for ‘Rikki’ asking him to join them.

Soon, the four of them were assembled on the leather sofas, the elves munching on sportscandy while the fae nursed mugs of hot chocolate.

“What news from home Íþró?” Sportacus asked nervously.

Íþróttaálfurinn swallowed the bite of the apple he was chewing and threw the core into the bin.  
Silently he handed him a creased piece of paper from his pocket. The crease lines showed that clearly it had, at one time, been folded into the shape of a paper aeroplane.

Sportacus looked down at the message and Robbie leaned over him to read along too.

It was, in essence, a Wanted poster. Two images at the top of the page depicting him and Robbie and a short description of the crimes of which they’d been accused. Sportacus hovered his finger over the word ‘traitor’ sadly.

“As you can see it is done. You have been officially removed from your post and declared a renegade. These were sent out this morning. I have been sent to collect you.”

Sportacus stroked the crystal casing on his chest, running his fingers across the number ten that was emblazoned there. He opened the casing and popped the crystal out.

“I suppose you’d better take this then.” He lamented, offering the crystal and the note back to Íþró.

His brother hesitated before taking it, but slipped the crystal into his pocket.

“So what now?” Robbie asked.

“We stick to the plan.” Glanni inputted, leaning forward to survey all of them at once. “You two lie low here for a couple of days. Enjoy the amenities…” he winked, “...and then when we’re all ready it’ll be go time.”

Sportacus felt an odd weight lift from him. It was true that in the eyes of everyone he was a wanted criminal and the only Numbered Hero to ever have had their Number removed from them, but in some ways now that he was here it was a relief.  
The two people he cared most about in the whole world - Robbie and Íþró, were both here and were going to stick by his side no matter what.

Sportacus resolved to practice one of the most important lessons he’d ever taught the kids in Lazy Town - to always look on the bright side, and find the joy in every situation, even one that seemed dire.

Sure, the fate of the elf lands was at stake and if things went wrong… it didn’t bear thinking about, but for the next few days at least he wasn't Number Ten anymore. It was just him, and Robbie and a whole caravan full of sex toys.

* * *

  
  


As soon as he was able, Glanni had extracted Íþróttaálfurinn and dragged him into his own private chalet - number sixty nine, of course. He reasoned that his brother needed the same kind of alone time with his elf as he hoped to enjoy with the glum Hero currently on his arm.

The yellow, brown and orange uniform currently enrobing the object of his desire clashed horribly with the rich velvet furnishings in deep plum and midnight black, and so he resolved to get the elf naked as soon as possible. For purely aesthetic reasons of course.

Íþróttaálfurinn, however, seemed to have other ideas.

“I feel terrible.” The elf collapsed onto the crushed velvet sofa with a groan, “This is all my fault.”

Glanni moved across to the stylish black and pink drinks globe in the corner of the room and set about mixing a couple of cocktails.

Íþróttaálfurinn rested his head in his hands, tearing his hat from his head and throwing it onto the cerise rug where it clashed appallingly.  
The fae kicked it into the corner out of sight as he approached with the drinks. The hero took one and downed it. Glanni perched on the edge of the sofa and sipped at his.

“My brother is _in hiding_ just over there, probably worried out of his mind and it’s all because of me.”

Glanni rolled his eyes. “I can guarantee you that whatever it is they’re doing over there, it’s more fun than whatever this angsty little chat is supposed to be.”

Scooting up next to the elf and draping himself across the infuriating leather breastplate, Glanni made a show of taking a big sip from his glass.  
“Stop worrying about your feelings and just give it to me big boy.”

Íþróttaálfurinn snorted, “We’re certainly in the place for it.”

Glanni moved both of their now empty glasses over to a side table held aloft by a bronze Atlas figure. He rolled over so he was lying across the elf’s lap looking up at him.

“We certainly are! Glaepur Glamping is proud to host discrete accommodation for those that require a little privacy but if you fancy something a little more _adventurous_ …” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “we have plenty of organised activities and drop in sessions that might amuse. And if your special fantasy requires something more... _elaborate_ , we’re pleased to have a very talented and _highly skilled_ troop of actors who would be positively thrilled to create the perfect scene for your _pleasure_ …”

Above him Íþróttaálfurinn laughed.

“Is there much call for that?”

Glanni shrugged. “You’d be surprised.”

“So what, you’re finally going to act on all of your _magical_ promises and seduce me here is that it?” Íþróttaálfurinn mumbled, avoiding Glanni’s gaze.

“Depends,” the fae replied, “if that’s what you want. What would you like to do?”

Íþróttaálfurinn eyed him suspiciously. Glanni held up his hands.

“No tricks, no glamours. Just whatever would please you most.” Glanni licked his lips slowly. “What is your ultimate fantasy?”

The elven hero shuddered and closed his eyes for a moment. 

“I… I would like… to maybe… tie you up. If that’s ok?”

Glanni wriggled in delight causing the elf to take a sharp breath in.

“Oh absolutely,” he drawled, “Do you want me to struggle against you, play the villain and get captured by the hero?”

“No,” Íþróttaálfurinn stroked a single finger down the side of his face. It was gentle, caressing. “I just want you to be you…”

“Eww. Gross.” Glanni laughed and kissed the tip of the finger stroking his cheek, “But yeah, that’s more than ok. There’s everything you could ever need in the back, come with me.”  
He rolled off the sofa and led Íþróttaálfurinn by the hand through the chalet, past the playroom to the master bedroom.  
Unlike in chalet number ten which only carried the basic standard array of toys and accessories, Glanni’s private room housed a floor-to-ceiling mirror fronted walk-in wardrobe that housed a much more extensive collection. The sight of it wasn’t for the faint hearted.

He pointed the hero elf over to the pegs displaying all manner of ropes, ties, chains and bindings.

“Fill your boots.”

Glanni flopped himself onto the obscenely large bed whilst Íþróttaálfurinn wandered over to the pegs and took in the site in front of him.

“Glanni… this is…”

“Fabulous isn't it?” Glanni interrupted, “Now how do you want me?”

The elf considered for a second, seemingly composing himself, before he came to a decision and stripped away his armoured breastplate and bracers. Glanni noted the scars around his wrists with a smirk. A constant reminder of their past.

He grabbed some long coils of red climbing rope and kicked off his shoes as he growled, “Naked.”

Glanni shivered with anticipation, and efficiently shimmied out of his high fashion leopard print see-through shirt and tight leather trousers. Naturally he had no underwear to dispose of.  
Íþróttaálfurinn ordered him to scoot back on the bed and he allowed himself to be pushed back so he was lying face up in the centre near the headboard.

Íþróttaálfurinn began by binding Glanni’s hands together tightly at the wrists, covering his copy of the matching scars that they shared, and securing them to the gold bars of the ornate headboard.

“Well you can’t fault a hero for his knot work.” Glanni smirked, testing the bindings - his arms were firmly stretched above his head.

“Shut up.” Íþróttaálfurinn ordered as he began looping the rope around one of the fae’s ankles. Glanni pouted in response but gasped when the elf’s hand brushed not so subtly against his hardening member.

“You did that on purpose you dick!” 

Íþróttaálfurinn merely smirked in response and Glanni whined in frustration.

Efficiently the elf wrapped and knotted the ropes up each of the fae’s calves and drew them back towards the headboard, spreading Glanni’s legs wide, displaying his hole to the room. Íþróttaálfurinn knotted the rope, holding him immobile in that position.

“How do you feel?” The elf asked, standing back surveying the trussed up fae in front of him. 

Glanni rolled his eyes, “Well I wouldn’t exactly want to meet the President like this, unless he was here to join in of course.”

Íþróttaálfurinn peeled off his tight, yellow sports undershirt and dropped it onto the floor revealing the firmly muscular, square chest that Glanni so coveted.   
He hummed his approval from his position on the bed whilst the elf ridded himself of his trousers as well. Between his legs hung one of the most succulent treats Glanni had ever had the pleasure to look upon. He licked his lips. 

The elf clambered up onto the bed. 

“Still wearing your socks I see. Strong look, classy.” Glanni remarked. 

Íþróttaálfurinn slapped his exposed arse causing a glorious little tingle to travel through him before he found his mouth being filled with one of the offending socks. 

“You seriously need to learn how to keep your mouth shut Glanni.” The naked elf regarded him smugly from above. 

Glanni raised an eyebrow which he hoped conveyed the message ‘you love it really’ and wriggled as much as the ropes would allow.   
His arse received another sharp slap for his trouble and he moaned into the sock. 

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you infuriating little fae, pay you back for all those times I couldn’t get you out of my head. You’d love that wouldn’t you?”

Glanni wriggled his hips again and nodded eagerly around the gag. 

“I thought so.” Íþróttaálfurinn nodded his approval. “Desperate little slut.”

Glanni shivered when he felt big strong hands roaming across his chest and bit back a moan when nimble fingers started pinching and rolling his nipples. He wished simultaneously to be free of the bindings to grab the infuriating elf and shove his stupid moustached face into his crotch, and also to be tied tighter and teased longer, completely at the other’s mercy. Hopefully there’d be plenty of time to fully explore all of the options this place afforded. 

When the elf disappeared from the bed suddenly Glanni screamed into the sock in desperation, bemoaning the loss of contact but also relishing it. 

Íþróttaálfurinn returned after a few moments with a little bottle and squirted some directly onto Glanni’s exposed hole.   
The fae gasped with the shock of the sudden coldness dribbling across him and then again as the elf shoved two fingers straight into him. He moaned into the soggy fabric filling his mouth and tried to buck against the intruding fingers but found himself held fast by the restraints. 

“Already so loose…” Íþróttaálfurinn remarked with a twinkle in his eye, withdrawing his fingers. “I hardly needed to bother.”

Glanni made an incredulous noise through the gag. 

The elf smirked at him.   
“What would be worse for you? If I prepped and spread your hole and didn’t use it, or if I kept you gagged the whole time?”

Glanni made a muffled frustrated noise. Obviously in an ideal world his mouth would be empty of sock and his arse would be full of cock, but given the choice… it all sounded pretty great. He just hoped that whatever Íþróttaálfurinn decided upon doing, he got round to doing it quickly. 

His deliberations were brought to a halt when the hero manoeuvred himself up on the bed and removed the sock, replacing it with the head of his large, erect penis.   
Before Glanni could comment Íþróttaálfurinn thrust in and he found his mouth full again.

The elf braced himself against Glanni’s bound legs that were held in position in the air and angled his hips so that he could sink further in. 

Glanni could feel the hard length sliding across his tongue, which still felt dry from the absorbent sock. The head was nudging against the back of his mouth. 

He relaxed his throat and swallowed, sucking the length down as far as it would go.   
Above him the elf groaned and bucked his hips slightly. 

“Oh yeah…” he gasped, “choke on me.”

Glanni swallowed again, relishing the shiver that travelled through the elf above him, although there wasn’t much more he could do without the use of his hands. 

Íþróttaálfurinn growled and thrust in and out a few times. Glanni gurgled around the cock fucking his throat and felt himself dribble slightly.   
Of all the ways to be stopped from talking, this was amongst his favourites. 

The hero pulled out far enough so that Glanni could breathe easily again, but not so far that the heavy weight allowed him the use of his tongue. 

“So,” the elf asked, “will you be quiet if I fuck your arse now? Or will I have to gag you again?”

Glanni stared up at him with as large, honest eyes as he could possibly muster although, he supposed, the giant cock in his mouth probably detracted somewhat from the innocent look he was going for. 

Íþróttaálfurinn raised a disbelieving eyebrow but pulled out of his mouth with a pop. 

Glanni resisted the urge to comment as the elf repositioned himself between his raised ankles and teasingly nudged at his entrance with the saliva slicked tip of his cock. 

After a few moments of desperate silence the elf smiled.   
“Good boy.”

Glanni gasped as Íþróttaálfurinn pressed into him. The elf felt even bigger inside his arse than he had in his mouth. Everything about it was glorious. 

The elf set off at a cracking pace and, being bound, Glanni could do nothing but lie there and take it. His fingers flexed and his toes curled against the restraints but they held fast, holding him open to be used by the pump action sports elf. It was everything he had ever wanted and more. 

“Yesss…” Glanni started to speak but was silenced by three strong fingers invading his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. He moaned around them. 

Íþróttaálfurinn’s other hand, still slick from the earlier fingering, gripped the base of his cock and began to pump it roughly. 

Glanni screamed around the fingers and tried to buck up into the strong grip but found himself completely pinned.   
He felt his eyes roll back into his head as all the sensations crescendoed together - the stretch and fullness of his arse, the silencing fingers in his mouth and the strong hand dragging him towards a climax. The elf had control of him totally and he loved it. 

“Cum for me Glanni,” Íþróttaálfurinn’s voice sounded distant and soft, “cum for me, you’re so good…”

Glanni whimpered, the hero’s words sending him over the edge. His eyes closed as he came across his own chest, screaming through his climax. At some point the fingers had been removed from his mouth and so he was able to grit his teeth as the fist continued pumping him through the crest of the wave.

As he returned breathlessly to the present he could feel the elf ploughing into him still, hardness knocking into his oversensitive prostate, and the hand still stroking his softening cock. He groaned with every thrust, the post-orgasm stimulation almost painful, but still addictively pleasurable. 

He found the idea of the elf finishing him off early then deliberately holding on to use him for as long as possible impossibly arousing.

“I bet... you’d love... to keep me here… hunngh… wouldn't you… elf.”

Íþróttaálfurinn growled, thrusting becoming more frenzied.

“Imagine… me spread for you… my _fairy ring_ … _ready_ to use… at any time… only yours…”

Glanni could see that his words were having an effect. Íþróttaálfurinn’s eyes had glazed over and he was biting his lip. The hand rubbing up and down his overstimulated shaft closed tighter. He tried to arch into it, or away from it he wasn’t quite sure, but found he remained immobile still.

“Aaahhhh… you’re so perfect… I would… _beg_ to let you keep me… trussed and ready… only yours… only yours…”

Íþróttaálfurinn came inside him with a grunt. They stayed still for a moment, connected together - not that Glanni had much choice, breathing as one.

Once he had recovered himself the elf pulled out and set about untying the knots of the ropes with practiced fingers. Glanni allowed his legs to be lowered to the bed, wincing at the tingle of the blood flowing back to his extremities. When he was fully freed, the heavy weight of the sports elf collapsed on top of him, hugging him tight around the middle.

“Well you certainly deliver.” Glanni laughed breathlessly. “A medal worthy performance I’d say.”

Íþróttaálfurinn mumbled into his chest.

“You talk too much, fae.”

Glanni grinned, “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

The elf didn’t reply in agreement, but didn’t disagree either. Instead he bit into the soft flesh over Glanni’s ribcage and sucked in a love bite. Glanni giggled and played with one of the sensitive ears, causing a moan in response.

If he’d’ve known that submitting to the hero without any seduction tricks would’ve ended up like this, he would have done it years ago.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the original working title for this chapter was 'putting the con into dubcon'.
> 
> I'm sorry (not sorry) I had to gag Glanni. I know people love his scene stealing. But he would not shut up whilst I was writing this one. I was like, 'Glanni shut up I'm trying to write smut'. He's a menace ;p


	21. Connecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ithro contacts the Council. Sportacus and Robbie enjoy their last night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut! (What do you expect of Glaepur Glamping as a setting?)

After a hedonistic day and night spent pleasurably in Glanni’s company, Íþróttaálfurinn returned to chalet number ten to see his brother. He made sure to call ahead first, not wanting to interrupt should he and his fae be similarly engaged, and arrived at a convenient moment clutching the small white communication panel that he'd retrieved from his balloon.

Sportacus welcomed him in, asking after Glanni.

"He departed this morning, wanting to get a few things sorted." Íþróttaálfurinn looked toward Robbie, "He said to tell you that he'll see you on the other side."

It was typical of Glanni, he'd come to realise. No sentimentality, not even towards his own brother, except that which he demonstrated through his actions. Robbie, for his part, didn't seem to mind.

The hero placed the dormant communication panel on the counter and turned to speak to the two occupants.

"So, Number Three is on his way. It's about time that I captured you." He nodded to the white box he'd brought with him. "We need to call the Council."

"I presume you need to show them that you've got us, I suppose your word alone won't do it?" Robbie demanded.

"Indeed."

"So what do you need to show exactly?" Sportacus asked.

"Well the story is that I've tracked you both to the place that you've been hiding in, have subdued you both-"

"Single-handedly?" Robbie interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

Íþróttaálfurinn grumbled, "That's the story we agreed upon. That I overpower you both and call in immediately to tell the Council the good news."

"Okay so just set the camera up and have us tied up in the background, that'll do it." Robbie offered, "I could paint on a few bruises, a black eye or two-"

"No it has to be real!" Íþróttaálfurinn was shouting now, "You think they won't notice stage make up when we are standing in front of them in a matter of days!? You are supposed to be a dangerous fae who has ensnared my br-"

"Put me in a sugar meltdown."

Íþróttaálfurinn turned sharply from where he had been glowering at the fae to regard his little brother with surprise. Next to him Robbie did the same.

"What!?" They both spoke at the same time.

"It explains how you can overpower both of us if I am unconscious and you can't get much more real than that. Put me in a sugar meltdown!"   
Sportacus spoke determinedly, Íþróttaálfurinn could almost imagine him stamping his foot the way he had when he'd been a small elfling.

"You know, it's not a bad suggestion…" he mused.

"What!? Isn't it dangerous?" Robbie threw his arms up into the air. Sportacus snorted.

"Come on Robbie, you've given me enough sugar apples yourself to know that I'll be just fine as long as I get some sportscandy afterwards. It'll only be for the duration of the call, then you can wake me up again."

Íþróttaálfurinn leapt in, "Yes and you Robbie can do your wild fae routine that you did on the airship, I saw the video by the way, very convincing."

Sportacus leapt about enthusiastically. "Yes it will work Robbie! You're always very convincing, you're a great actor!"

The fae seemed pleased with the compliment and together they began staging the scene, arranging the camera so it pointed towards a bare corner so that they wouldn't give away their surroundings. Sportacus fetched some rope from the bedroom and urged Íþróttaálfurinn to tie his and Robbie's hands, which he did, trying not to think too much about it.

Soon the stage was set. Sportacus had arranged himself sprawled on his back despite the fae's protestations - 'I'll be fine Robbie stop fussing!', with his bound hands resting asymmetrically by his waist. Robbie had been bound hand and foot and was knelt, leaning against the wall as if he'd just been thrown there.  
Íþróttaálfurinn surveyed the scene. The fae was affecting a snarl, his eyes turning cold with hated as he began slipping into character. Yes, this would do. All that remained was his brother…

Íþróttaálfurinn held a posh complimentary Glæpur Glamping chalet chocolate out to his little brother.  
"You really sure about this?"

Sportacus rolled his eyes, "Of course Íþró! I will not come to harm with you both here."

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded, slipping the chocolate into Sportacus's mouth. Before he had even chewed more than once, his little brother's eyes rolled back into his head and he fell limp.  
Beside them, Robbie snarled, low and dangerous. The hero elf couldn't quite tell if he was acting the part or not. He decided just to get on with it and cranked the handle of the communication panel.

The screen flickered into life and he quickly navigated over to the menu that would connect him directly to the Elf Council, checking over his shoulder every few moments to make sure that the fae wasn't about to jump him. He suspected Robbie might be more of a method actor.

The call connected immediately.

"This is Number Eight calling the Elf Council-" 

The wind was knocked out of him suddenly as the Hero was tackled to the ground from behind. So he'd been right about the method acting.  
They tussled for a moment, although Íþróttaálfurinn easily gained the upper hand. He suspected that it had less to do with the fae being bound and more that he was losing on purpose.

Once he had a clear grasp on the other man, Íþróttaálfurinn stood, hauling the fae up into the frame of the camera. Both were breathing heavily.

"I have _caught_ the fugitives." He shook Robbie a little for impact. The fae seemed to take this as his cue.

"Fucking ELVES! Not content with RUINING my thrall, you now send this OAF after me!? "

"SHUT IT, FAE SCUM!" Íþróttaálfurinn roared, aiming a punch to Robbie's gut but pulling the weight of it, not wanting to hurt him.

Robbie reacted as though he'd been hit for real and collapsed to his knees coughing.

"Number Three is on his way to rendezvous with us. I will be able to keep them here until he arrives, but as you see I had to put Number Ten into a sugar coma. This fae has him completely enchanted, he cannot be reasoned with."

"You are a coward elf." Robbie spat from the floor, "Tricking one of your own with sugar because you're too afraid to meet him in a fair fight-"

Íþróttaálfurinn pushed Robbie out of shot below the frame of the camera and stamped loudly onto the floor next to his head. Robbie fell still and silent, taking the hint.

The elf looked into the camera, breathing heavily.

"I shall call to update you again when Number Three arrives. Number Eight out."

Íþróttaálfurinn turned off the screen and threw a blanket over it to be safe before rushing to untie the fae at his feet.

"Very convincing," Robbie winced as the elf helped him up off the floor.

"As were you." Íþróttaálfurinn agreed. "That should certainly get them excited."

The fae didn't reply but instead headed straight for the fruit bowl where he plucked out an apple and a couple of grapes for good measure.  
Íþróttaálfurinn watched as Robbie crouched down beside Sportacus and gently placed the grapes into his mouth. The elf's eyes opened immediately and he sat up quickly. Robbie guided him back down so his head was in his lap and quickly undid his hands, pressing the apple into them.

"Shhhh love, take your time." He murmured gently. Sportacus ate dutifully before looking up towards his older brother.

"Did it work? Was it convincing?"

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded. "The Council won't know what's hit them."

  
  


* * *

  
  


As soon as Íþróttaálfurinn had left with the communication panel tucked firmly under his arm, Robbie pulled Sportacus into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

"Hey now," Sportacus's voice was muffled from where his face was pressed into Robbie's shoulder. "What's got you all possessive?"

Robbie kissed the top of his boyfriend's head through the blond curls.

"I don't like any of this. First I put you under a glamour and now a sugar meltdown - I just hate to think of you being so helpless when we're literally about to walk into the lion's den."

Robbie felt Sportacus rubbing his arm gently and loosened his grip so that the elf could reach up to fling an arm round his neck. Sportacus hugged him back, the firm, strong muscles being so gentle around him.

"Both of those times I was completely safe, because I was with you Robbie. And when we go to the elf lands tomorrow I promise I shall be entirely myself."

"I might not be able to look after you there. What if they hurt you again?"

"Íþró and Íþrótt will be there to stop anything bad from happening Robbie."

"Forgive me if I don't entirely trust your brother." Robbie sneered, running the tips of his fingers lightly down Sportacus's back where he could feel the spongy material of the bandages.  
"I should change these…"

Sportacus nodded his consent and lay on the bed while Robbie efficiently removed the bandages and washed away the remains of the poultice.

"I want to see it." The elf craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse over his shoulder.

Robbie considered. The wounds were much less horrifying now than they had once been - the magical salve having worked wonders. The bruising had all but disappeared and the cuts had all closed leaving a criss-cross pattern of thin, neat red lines that would eventually fade to pale scars.

"Alright." Robbie took Sportacus's hand and positioned him in front of the full length mirror that was affixed to one wall. The elf turned this way and that, seeing the damage for the first time.

"Wow," he breathed, "that looks pretty nasty."

Robbie nodded sadly.

"It's healing very well though, thank you." Sportacus stood up on his tip toes and kissed him.

The fae cleared his throat. "We should get you bandaged back up…"

Sportacus interrupted him. "Let's leave them off for a while. Fresh air is good for all parts of the body, not just the lungs!"

Robbie rolled his eyes at his boyfriend -always in teacher mode even when there was no one to teach, and sat down heavily on the bed. 

“If things go badly tomorrow I might never see you again… we might get locked away in separate cells for the rest of time…”

Robbie felt his chin being lifted by a hand hardened from many years of handstands and flips, and was met by two very serious deep blue pools gazing lovingly at him. 

“Things won’t go badly Robbie I promise, but you’re right that things might be different. I’m not a Hero anymore so I’ll have to find something else to do, I suppose…”   
Sportacus’s sad eyes brightened suddenly, “Let’s make this last night really special! What would you like to do?”

Robbie grinned mischievously,  
“Oh I can think of a few things.” He waggled his eyebrows. 

He reached out and took up Sportacus’s hands in his own, kissing each before looking up into his eyes once again.   
“I want to hold you in my arms and never let go.”

The elf’s face softened into one of the dopiest, loved up expressions Robbie had ever seen, which was saying something. He continued, for once not feeling yucky for pouring his heart out. 

“I want to show you how much I love you, just in case I don’t get to tell you again…”

A single tear slipped down his cheek but before he could wipe it away, Sportacus’s lips covered his in a tender kiss. The kiss seemed to carry with it the promise of a thousand tomorrows and all the love in the world.   
Gradually the kiss deepened and before he knew it Robbie had a lap full of warm, squirming elf.

He hummed appreciatively. 

Sportacus whispered into his ear.   
“I’m all yours… no one can take me away from you.”

His chest thrummed with vibrations as Sportacus began purring against him. Robbie wrapped his arms around the elf and rolled backwards carrying them both fully onto the bed. He positioned them so they were lying on their sides, facing each other, breath mingling together. 

They stayed like that for a long while. Robbie occasionally running his fingers through the elf’s golden hair and Sportacus stroking along the lines of Robbie’s suit.   
The object of Robbie’s affections purred contentedly and snuggled in closer. 

“I love you so much Robbie… what should we do to celebrate it?”

I just wanna feel you. I want to feel all of you. I want to hear your heart beat next to mine… what about you?

I want you to fill me up, wrap around me and cover every inch of my body with yours. 

Robbie let out a small moan. He would be lying if he said the idea wasn’t appealing. In fact it was intoxicating.  
He reached behind him and felt around blindly for the little bottle of lube they'd left on the bedside table. His fingers found it and he dropped it between him and Sportacus. 

“Get yourself naked and prep yourself for me baby… I’ll be right back.”

The fae rolled off the bed and quickly ridded himself of his clothes. He scooted back to his previous position and was greeted with the sight of a very naked elf moaning and writhing around his own fingers. 

“Whatever did I do to catch myself such a pornographic little elf such as you?” He mused. 

“You… _bent_ me over… and told me I’d been… _very naughty_ … I seem to… recall.”   
Sportacus’s words were halting and distracted but what he said was true. It had been like that the first time - no hesitations, no feelings, just a fun, flirty fuck. How times had changed.   
The only thing he saw looking at the elf currently fingerfucking his own arse, was love. True, unending, world shattering love. Plain and simple. 

He was brought out of his reverie however by a sudden exclamation of pleasure from his writhing lover and reached out a hand to stop the elf's ministrations - he didn't want him having _all_ the fun on his own.  
Sportacus whined at the loss as Robbie guided his hand away with a firm grip on his wrist.

“My turn, my love.”

Robbie slipped between his boyfriend’s spread thighs and slicked himself up efficiently from the little bottle. Sportacus mewled beneath him as he nudged teasingly at his entrance with the tip of his cock.

“You make the most wonderful noises,” Robbie growled as he pressed his way in, causing a sob of relief to fall from the elf’s parted lips, “I want you to be as loud as possible for me today baby!”

Sportacus gasped, choking out his agreement between breathless moans.

The fae wrapped his long arms around his beloved and drew him in as close as he could. This time was about togetherness, as though they could fuse into each other, never to be parted. He began to rock his hips and Sportacus rocked with him, clenching and releasing around him with every thrust.

Together they rocked, moving as one, moaning and purring for what seemed like hours, never quite tipping over the edge, but enjoying the connection that existed between them. It was bliss, a moment so perfect Robbie wished it would never end.

But eventually, between whispered declarations of love, the fae felt the familiar tingling in the tips of his toes and knew that his release was imminent. 

“I’m close… Sportalove…” he murmured, “I’m close…”

“Yes cum inside me Robbie…” Sportacus purred, meeting his gaze with half closed eyes, “I’m all ready for you…”   
Robbie felt him clench around him, encouragingly. It was enough to bring him to the brink.

“Incorrigible elf!” He gasped through gritted teeth as his orgasm overtook him, thrusting deeply into his boyfriend, shuddering with the release. Sportacus wasn’t far behind, having been rutting himself against Robbie’s soft stomach for most of the encounter, and came with a shout as Robbie squirted inside of him.

They stayed, clutching each other tightly and breathing heavily, until the last shudders of each of their climaxes had left them. Robbie kissed the top of Sportacus’s head and stroked his arm lazily.

The elf shivered, a smile of contentment on his lips.   
“Can you stay inside me Robbie, let’s stay like this forever.”

“For how long?” Robbie laughed, “Maybe not forever, but for today yes, as long as you want…” 

It wasn’t a bad suggestion, although his erection had waned it felt pleasantly warm and cosy to still be inside the elf. Perhaps one day he would suggest that they spend the whole night joined together in this way, he could only imagine it would be a fantastic way to wake up. 

For today however, it seemed Sportacus had other ideas.

“Just for a bit longer. I want you to get hard again while you’re already inside me.”

Robbie’s dick twitched with interest. This elf was going to be the death of him.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who have left comments and kudos so far! Much love to you all <3


	22. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number Three arrives at Glaepur Glamping so that the group can make preparations to depart.

Number Three landed his orange balloon next to Number Eight’s red one, which was tethered to a large tree just outside a walled compound in the countryside. The man himself, orange hat and all, was there to meet him.

“How do Number Eight!” He greeted cheerfully, jumping the last few feet to the ground and helping his counterpart to secure the line. “Funny sort of place this is, some sort of military compound?”

Íþróttaálfurinn grimaced. “It’s magically warded. Once you’re inside you’ll be able to see through the enchantment. It’s Glanni’s… little paradise.”

Íþrótt nodded sagely, “Ah, that explains the need for secrecy then. Shall we?”

The younger elf led the way through the sparse woodland until they came to a door in the outer wall, which he opened with a passcode, and led Íþrótt through.  
As Íþrótt stepped through the doorway he was astonished at the change. Instead of the dilapidated barracks style huts and concrete parade ground there were what appeared to be luxury log cabins and verdant lawns surrounded by rose bushes.

He let out a low whistle.

Íþróttaálfurinn ignored his exclamation of wonder and instead continued his previous line of discussion.  
“My brother and his fae are here although Glanni has since left to make preparations for his infiltration mission. He sent me a message just before you arrived saying he thinks he may have figured out how the changelings are keeping themselves from view.”

“Did he say how?” Íþrótt questioned, momentarily distracted by an intricate topiary phallus cut into the low hedgerow.

“Only other thing he said was ‘mind the flowers’,” Íþróttaálfurinn grumbled, “typical fae vaguery.”

“Hmmm,” Íþrótt agreed. “And what of Robbie and Number Ten?”

Íþróttaálfurinn shot him a look, “He’s not Number Ten anymore Three, that’s exactly the sort of slip up that could cost us the mission!”

“You’re quite right of course. The Council is aware that we’re coming then?”

“Yes. I called them with the f- with Robbie and Sportacus incapacitated and in my custody. Once we are all ready you and I shall need to call them again to let them know we’re en route.”

“And how are they?” Íþrótt prompted his counterpart.

Íþróttaálfurinn sighed. “I still find it hard to face my brother, and the fae despises me for which I cannot blame him. I wish we did not have to risk more harm by returning them into the Council’s grasp.”

“You must play your part,” Number Three warned, “In many ways you will be the one on which success rests. You must appear unremorseful! Driven!”

Íþróttaálfurinn didn’t respond but instead halted outside a log cabin bearing the designation ‘ten’.

“This is us,” he announced grimly, leading the way up the steps and pushing the door open.

Inside the cabin Íþrótt was greeted by a stylish interior, complete with leather sofas and marble countertops. In the centre of the room, jumping nervously to their feet, were the two fugitives.

“Íþrótt! Good to see you!” Sportacus bounded over to him, shaking him firmly by the hand. The expression on his face was less warm, however. The young elf was worried.

“You too Sportacus,” he greeted, “And you Robbie, hope you’re well.”

“I’ve been better.” The fae’s voice was tight with nerves too. “Last day of freedom and all that.”

“Indeed. But before we do anything we could all stand to go over the details of the plan once more.”

Sportacus nodded his agreement and invited the two Heroes over to the sofa area to sit. Íþróttaálfurinn arranged himself on a squashy sofa, Íþrótt noted, whilst he himself settled on the floor. Sportacus and Robbie sat together at the far end of the other sofa, the elf tucking his legs underneath him to stop them from jiggling nervously.

“So,” Íþrótt began, “I gather you two have been ‘apprehended’ now. Therefore I suggest we set off for the elf lands with all due haste and call ahead on the way.”

“Now hang on,” Robbie interjected, “”And walk into what exactly? Are you seriously suggesting Sportacus and I give ourselves up without any kind of a backup plan?”

Íþróttaálfurinn agreed, “We should at least have some sort of safety net, an agreement of sorts, a way to call it all off if it gets out of hand.”

Robbie snorted, “You want a safeword to end the scene with the changeling infested elf council?” He laughed, “You’ve been spending too much time with Glanni!”

Íþróttaálfurinn blushed, turning his face away in embarrassment.  
“I merely meant-”

Íþrótt cut in, wanting to get things back on track. “It’ll be impossible for us to know what precisely we’re walking into. We shall just have to each keep our wits about us and try to maintain eye contact as much as possible.”

“MAINTAIN EYE CONTACT!” Robbie exclaimed, “Oh yeah because _eye contact_ is really going to help us when they decide to hang us by our ankles in the dungeons!”

Íþrótt made sure to keep his voice level yet sternly authoritative.

“Number Eight and I will be aiming to dissuade the Council of any such action whilst we wait for Mr Glæpur to fulfil his part of the plan. Our role, as you well know, is to provide a suitable distraction. To put on a show!”

Sportacus nudged Robbie, “You’re a very convincing actor Robbie, you’ll be able to convince them of anything!” 

The fae relaxed slightly, until his boyfriend continued.

“And with me cowering naked on the floor next to you, your performance will become even more convincing!”

Robbie and Íþróttaálfurinn both choked on their breath in surprise. It might almost have been comical, given how much they distrusted one another, that their reactions mirrored each other so precisely.

“Why would you be naked!?” Íþróttaálfurinn demanded, beating Robbie to the punch.

“They are expecting to see a powerful fae who fucked a sports elf into compliance.” Sportacus explained calmly, as though he were merely instructing in the proper rules of basketball.

Íþróttaálfurinn pinched the bridge of his nose in an exasperated expression, “Sportacus please.”

“So we need to give them a show, what they want to see! Robbie needs to be all glamorous and dignified-”

“That’s more Glanni’s sort of thing-” Robbie interjected, speaking over his boyfriend.

“And I need to appear weak willed and disgraced, possibly naked-” Sportacus continued regardless.

“He’s got a very good point.” Íþrótt cut through the muddled arguing, “This is about distraction. Our charade has got to hold up. It would be much better if we adopt that strategy and you, at least, act aggressively to Sportacus in the council chamber.”   
He glanced towards Íþróttaálfurinn who looked as though he couldn't decide whether to shout or cry,   
“And Robbie too, of course, if that’s what his character demands.” Íþrótt continued.

“Yes,” Sportacus agreed as though that settled the matter, “and I know we’ve agreed that I won’t be under a glamour for real but I can still act like it if you want! Or I could act like I’ve just been released from it and I’m totally scrambled. Maybe one of you should knock me around a bit so I have some convincing wounds - bruises and such.”  
He giggled, blushing. “I’ve already got enough bite marks though.”

On the sofa, Íþrótt could see Íþróttaálfurinn’s face beginning to turn puce as he considered the implications of his brother’s words. He eventually managed to squeak out a mild protest. 

“We’re not going to beat you up for real Sportacus… and you’re not going to be naked.”

Robbie interjected thoughtfully, “Presumably having you in your Hero uniform would have much more impact. Really sell the idea of what you represent and what you’re losing. Never underestimate the power of a costume.”

“Then again,” Íþrótt considered, “it might serve us well if you go in with your back bared, serving as a visual reminder to the Council and if there’s a crowd it might help get them on side to see your scars.”

Íþróttaálfurinn flinched but nodded his approval.   
Quietly Robbie took Sportacus’s hand and squeezed it. 

“So whose flying death trap will we be taking then?” The fae enquired after a silent beat. 

Íþrótt spread his legs out into a split and leaned forward into a stretch, even after all his years as a high numbered hero he still hated sitting still for long periods. 

“We’ll split up into pairs. I’ll transport one of you two, and Number Eight will take the other.”

"Why can't Sports and I travel together?" Robbie challenged him sharply, "for moral support? I want to be with him for as long as possible."

"No," Íþrótt fancied he could feel his blood pressure rising, "it would be against all protocol. From the moment we leave this compound we must all appear sincere in our deception - we don't know if anyone will be monitoring us on our approach. It'll have to be one prisoner to one guard across two balloons, it's what they'll be expecting."

"Fine," Íþróttaálfurinn agreed, "as long as I take Sportacus."  
The two brother's locked eyes in a silent exchange. "To make up for last time."

"Urg," Robbie made a noise of disgust, "whatever. But I'm not staying in character the whole time." His steely grey eyes locked into Íþrótt's own, staring him down. "I'm better in short bursts."

Sportacus snorted and giggled, shoving the corner of a tasteful scatter cushion into his mouth in an attempt to disguise his outburst. The fae pinched him half-heartedly in response, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"So is there anything else? Or are we ready to do this?" Íþróttaálfurinn prompted.

Sportacus and Robbie both shrugged, linking hands and intertwining their fingers.

Íþrótt could see no reason to delay things any further. "As ready as we'll ever be." He pressed his lips together seriously, looking towards the couple on the sofa. "You two make any preparations you need to, whilst Eight and I call to say that we're on our way. With any luck, a day's warning will give them enough time to amass quite a crowd."

He stood, pleased to see that Íþróttaálfurinn was only a second behind him, and moved to the door.

"Let's aim to leave in an hour."

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next hour saw a flurry of activity. Number Three went back to his balloon, citing the need to make a series of calls whilst Íþróttaálfurinn gathered up everyone's various bags and packed up a selection of ropes and handcuffs from Glanni's personal collection.   
Sportacus, for his part, insisted upon tidying and cleaning the entire chalet whilst his boyfriend sat by, rolling his eyes.

"It's not fair to leave it in a mess Robbie, we must be good guests."

"Yeah because any cleaning staff Glanni employs would be appalled by an unmade bed and a fruit bowl out of place." Robbie sneered.

"It doesn't hurt to make their job easier." The elf stated whilst arranging a selection of dildos on the shelf from smallest to largest.

"It hurts me," replied the fae, "I could've been cumming inside you right now, instead of being bored out of my mind."

"Well you could help…" Sportacus reproached.

The sudden noise of someone entering their chalet interrupted their exchange and both Robbie and Sportacus made their way into the main room where the two Heroes were waiting for them.

"Ready to go?" Íþrótt enquired.

Sportacus nodded.

Together the four of them walked in silence across the sunny lawns. Sportacus nursed an anxious knot in his stomach - he felt a little like a condemned man walking towards his execution, and soon they came to a discrete door in the outer wall where the older elves paused.

"This is it lads." Íþrótt nodded. Robbie looked slightly green.

Sportacus rushed forward and embraced his boyfriend, kissing him repeatedly and holding him as tightly as he dared. The fae responded in kind, kissing back hungrily and holding on for all his might.

The sound of Íþrótt clearing his throat brought them apart.

"Do whatever you need to do Robbie," Sportacus said seriously, looking deep into his boyfriend's eyes, "I love you."

The fae whispered his reply, "I love you too Sportakook."

And then with a nod from Íþrótt, Íþró opened the door and headed through it. Sportacus felt a strong hand on the back of his neck and looked round to see that Íþrótt also held Robbie by the shoulder.

Once the door had closed and locked behind them, Sportacus found himself transferred into his brother's strong grasp, his hands clamped around his biceps, guiding him through the woodland. It wasn't enough to hold him - should he have wanted to escape the hold he could've easily, but it told the story, in case anyone was watching.

When they reached the balloons the two pairs split from one another, each heading for a different basket. Sportacus looked back over his shoulder, craning his neck to where his boyfriend was being guided into Íþrótt's well-worn vehicle.  
Their eyes met across the distance for a moment, before Sportacus found himself being nudged into the basket of his brother's balloon where he was invited to take a seat on the floor. He sat, losing sight of Robbie.

"Take your shirt off then so I can tie you up." Íþróttaálfurinn sounded uncomfortable. "Don't worry I've got some blankets here to keep you warm for the journey."

Without any hesitation or protest, Sportacus removed his vest and then pulled the tight undershirt over his head. He felt more naked from his exposed hair and ears anyway. In front of him, Íþró seemed to be searching through a bag filled with a variety of restraints.

Sportacus's stomach flipped as he removed his bracers, still surprised sometimes by the new scars that encircled his wrists.

"Please Íþró, no iron." He blurted out quickly. 

His brother looked round at him sharply, looking affronted and slightly sick.

"You really think I would?"

Sportacus shrugged, the idea seeming ridiculous now that he'd voiced it. He trusted his brother despite all that had passed between them.

"No," he said quietly, "of course not, I'm sorry."

He held his hands out in front of him as Íþró gathered a length of rope and squatted down next to him. The older elf looped the rope around his wrists, tightening and knotting it efficiently.   
Sportacus tested the restraints, there was very little give in the coarse bindings but not so tight as it would cut off any circulation to his fingers. He felt a blanket being draped around his bare shoulders and settled back into it.

Unable to properly help with his hands bound in front of him, Sportacus watched with interest as his brother prepared the balloon for take-off, admiring the practiced way he handled the lines. It wasn't long before the basket wobbled into the air underneath him.

"Away we go…" Íþró muttered.

Sportacus shifted onto his knees so that he could peer over the side of the wicker basket as the balloon ascended. Ahead of them, Number Three's balloon was rising steadily over the treetops. He couldn't see Robbie so Sportacus reasoned that he too must be crouched down on the floor of the basket. He hoped that Robbie and Íþrótt would be able to get along without antagonizing each other too much, although he supposed that having Robbie travel with his brother would've been a potential disaster in the making. It would probably be a while before he could leave them alone together and still be sure that they'd both be alive upon his return. Robbie, he knew, still resented Íþró for arranging his first little trip to the citadel.

Below them the ground was falling away faster and faster as the balloon picked up speed. Íþró fiddled with a few instruments and pulled at some of the steering lines and soon they were flying along as well as up.  
Sportacus watched as the distant boundary of Glæpur Glamping disappeared behind a cloud. All that was before them now was the open sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus's outburst that he should be naked is a dialogue exchange I had planned from pretty early on in the writing process. It still makes me laugh every time. He's insatiable!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading!


	23. The Two Balloons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie and Iprott talk. Sportacus and Ithro communicate.

Once his balloon had safely caught onto the prevailing wind and the flight had become steady, Íþróttaálfurinn jumped down into the basket and sat across from his little brother.  
Sportacus was huddled under a blanket, naked from the waist up, with his hands tied in front of him. He was also shivering.

Íþróttaálfurinn grabbed another blanket and draped it over his brother’s trembling form, “Sorry, I forgot how cold it can get up here if you're not moving around.”

Sportacus poked his large, soulful eyes out from under this new addition and peered up at him. Íþróttaálfurinn returned to his seat, looking across at the huddled elf.

“So… I guess… we haven’t really had a chance to talk much with, y’know, everything that’s going on.” The large, blue eyes blinked at him. “How… are you?”

Sportacus poked the rest of his head out. The tips of his pointed ears were pink in the cold wind.  
“I’m alright. How are you Íþró?”

The older elf rested his head in his hands. “Just peachy.”

“You know you can always talk to me Íþró.” Sportacus offered.   
“I don’t want you to be feeling guilty-”

“Ha!” Íþróttaálfurinn barked out a joyless laugh, “Guilty. How can I not feel guilt Sportacus? None of this would be happening if it wasn't for me.”

“Pssh,” His brother made a dismissive noise, “The only thing that would be different is that we’d all be none the wiser to the changeling’s infiltration plot. Robbie and I would probably still be dancing around one another flirting awkwardly and you would never have hooked up with Glanni.” He paused, “I presume you and Glanni did…” 

Íþróttaálfurinn cleared his throat and he could feel his face flushing.

“Yes, well… he is… very… persistent.” 

Sportacus laughed. “The fae do seem to be, don’t they! And do you feel better for it?”

Íþróttaálfurinn groaned, sensing from the glint in his brother’s eye that this line of questioning was far from over, “It is… a relief to no longer feel compelled to… fight him off.” He winced, that had sounded better in his head.

His little brother continued, apparently oblivious to his awkwardness with the topic.  
“My Robbie is so innovative and there’s so much variety… does Glanni also do that thing with his tongue where-?”

The older elf cut Sportacus off with a shout, covering his ears.  
“Sportacus! We do NOT need to discuss the details. That fae is rubbing off on you… not like that!” He backtracked upon seeing Sportacus smirk.  
“You two are very happy, and Glanni and I… we’ll do what we do and let's leave it at that!”

The younger elf raised an eyebrow but seemed to let the matter drop.  
“As long as you are happy Íþró, that’s all I want for you.”

Íþróttaálfurinn let his head drop. “I do not deserve it after all that I have done to you brother.”

“Everyone deserves happiness Íþró!” The pile of blankets that was Sportacus raised up slightly before settling back down as the elf changed position. He looked bashful.  
“I know I said it would take time for me to forgive you Íþró, but please know… I have forgiven you now. I do not want you hating yourself over this. I’m fine, we are a team again and we are going to go and try and save the world.”

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded and smiled at his brother in an attempt to appease him, but inside he still felt hollow.

“Get some sleep if you can Sportacus, it will not do for us to be tired when we arrive.”

Sportacus agreed, making Íþróttaálfurinn promise to rest also which he did, even though he had no intentions of doing so. He didn’t trust that there would not be spies or people waiting to intercept them as they approached the elf lands.

Íþróttaálfurinn watched over his little brother as he drifted off to sleep and then for a while longer as the sun set and then rose around them. The calming rhythms of his breathing soothing as a focus for meditation and reassuring as a confirmation that he was alive.  
At some point during the night the blanket had become tangled and now, as he fidgeted his legs in his sleep, one of Sportacus’s bare shoulders poked out of the blanket and was exposed to the cold air.   
The older elf saw his brother shiver and try to snuggle down into the pile of blankets.

He hopped over the short distance to where Sportacus lay and felt for the corner of the blanket, pulling it out to recover him with it for the remainder of the dawn.  
As he pulled the blanket away slightly he caught sight of something that spread like a chill all across his body in an instant. Spreading up towards his bare, muscular, shoulder were a couple of harsh, thin red lines.  
Íþróttaálfurinn pulled the blanket away further. His brother’s back was a hash of intersecting scars, starkly dark against the pale skin. Although they were closed and healing now, some of these wounds looked as though they had been deep when fresh… and unbearably painful. His hand floated out, unthinkingly, to ghost over the scars but he drew back when his sleeping brother flinched and squeaked in his sleep.

Forgive him… how could Sportacus forgive him? When each and every one of those thirty marks was inflicted by his hand. A sob welled up inside him and he allowed it to consume him, tears flowing freely, crying as quietly as he could for fear of waking his sleeping brother.

Alas, cutting across the roar of the wind and the tearful pressure consuming his head, a small, sleepy voice spoke up.

“Íþró?” Sportacus rolled himself over as carefully as he could, mindful not to roll onto his back which was complicated by the added difficulty that his hands were bound in front of him.  
“Íþró are you crying?”

Íþróttaálfurinn found he could not answer as grief and remorse poured out of him. He felt Sportacus awkwardly trying to comfort him, although his hands became trapped between them and he ended up mostly just leaning against him.

The Hero buried his face into the crook of his brother’s neck, and sobbed into it.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… your back… I shouldn’t’ve… I’m sorry brother…”

Sportacus shushed him gently, rocking back and forth as much as he could without toppling over.  
“It’s ok Íþró,” he soothed, “let it all out. I forgive you. It’s not as bad as it looks now I promise.”

Íþróttaálfurinn gulped. This was all wrong. He was the one who had done such terrible things and yet here it was that Sportacus was the one to be comforting him - again! 

“I’m sorry brother,” he gulped, tears finally subsiding, “I just… seeing you like that…”

“I understand Íþró,” Sportacus smiled sadly, “Robbie only just let me look as well. But better you get it all out now rather than in front of the council.”

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded, wiping his eyes.

“You’re right, we have a job to do after all.” He sat up, patting Sportacus awkwardly on the arm by way of thanks, “You are a better hero than me brother, I think perhaps I always knew that.”

“Tssh,” Sportacus dismissed him, “I could never do the difficult things like you do Íþró. The more I adjust to the idea of that I am Numberless, the more I think perhaps I wouldn’t have enjoyed moving up the ranks. I am suited to life in Lazy Town, it is my home and I love it. It would’ve broken my heart to have been promoted to Number Nine and been forced to move away. I think…” he paused thoughtfully, “I think when this is all over I shall return to Lazy Town to live, not as their Hero, but as a resident.”

The young elf smiled and Íþróttaálfurinn was stuck with a wave of horror. Was his little brother really considering giving up? He himself had never felt so attached to a posting as to feel anything other than pride whenever he had been promoted - first to Nine and now to Eight. Being a Numbered Hero was, to him, a calling. A sought after, well respected and important job, sure, but not, as it clearly was for Sportacus, just a job.

Before him his little brother shivered again in the cool morning air and he scooped up the blankets to wrap around him once again. Soon they would be crossing over into elf territory, soon they would enact their plan which, if they succeeded, would change the course of history. But if they failed… Íþróttaálfurinn shuddered with the thought. The consequences were too horrific for him to imagine.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Robbie Rotten rolled his shoulders, clenching his jaw stubbornly against the cold of the wind whistling through the flimsy woven death trap.   
Before they had taken off, the Number Three elf had tied his hands behind his back tightly - not unkindly but without any kind of indulgence for the fact that their scenario was not, in fact, real. Although the blood flow to his hands was unencumbered, he was now quite stiff and extremely uncomfortable. And cold, although he didn’t want to give the elf the satisfaction of admitting it. 

“We’re well underway now. Should be reaching the borders of the elf lands a little after sunrise.”

Robbie grinned, he had won. Íþrótt had broken the silence first. 

“And I suppose it’ll be this hellish the entire way?” He grumbled. 

The elf regarded him. “If you were cold you could’ve just said so.”  
He rummaged around in a wicker trunk on the other side of the basket and pulled out a couple of blankets and flung them over to Robbie.   
The fae raised an eyebrow and fixed him with an incredulous stare, waiting for the penny to drop. 

Íþrótt paused for a moment, before leaping over and arranging the blankets around the trussed fae. 

“Most kind.” Robbie simpered sarcastically, flashing his pearly white teeth. 

The hero elf ignored him and went back to rummaging. He emerged with a flask and a small bar of chocolate. 

“You need to eat, to keep your strength up.”

Robbie balked as the elf began unwrapping the bar, “You’re not going to _feed me_!?”

Íþrótt shrugged, “How else do you suggest to eat it? Off the floor? That can be arranged if you’d prefer.”

“Or you could UNTIE ME!” Robbie shouted, “We’re the _only ones_ here elf!”

“So you can make your escape fae scum?!” Íþrótt raised his voice to match, although his expression remained neutral, “Stop being an idiot.”

Robbie growled frustratedly but recognised unwavering stubbornness when he saw it. Being hand-fed like a baby it was then. He silently thanked the stars that Sportacus wasn’t here to witness this, although it did give him a few fun ideas for when they next had a free afternoon. 

He saw the chocolate bar heading towards him and opened his mouth obediently. The sugar enrobed his tongue, melting all round his mouth, delicious and reviving. He reached out with his neck to secure another bite which was just as good as the first.   
With little fuss, Íþrótt fed him the chocolate and helped him sip at the cocoa from the flask. 

Robbie licked his lips once the meal was done and Íþrótt had retreated again. 

“Thanks.” The elf acknowledged him with a nod. 

“So,” Robbie continued, “You spent the last couple of days in Lazy Town huh. How are the kids?”

“Despite having apparently never taken fish oil in their lives, they all seem healthy and well. Numb-... Sportacus has done well with them.”

Robbie snorted. “I bet you didn’t get very far with the slimy fish stuff. They’re too smart for that.”

The elf raised an eyebrow but kept quiet. 

“So what did you do with them?” The fae enquired.

“We discussed how to enhance their individual wellbeing by making healthy choices.” 

Robbie rolled his eyes. “I bet they thought you were a barrel of laughs… what did you tell them about Sportacus’s airship?”

Íþrótt knelt down on the floor in a relaxed pose.   
“They were somewhat disturbed but calmed down once I took them to the crash site to-”

“YOU TOOK THEM TO THE CRASH SITE!?” Robbie exclaimed, “Why would you do that!?”

“So they could see for themselves that Sportacus was not trapped beneath the wreckage, although we did recover his hat.” 

Íþrótt’s voice was completely calm, as though he were not explaining how he had let five small children loose on a smouldering, dangerous heap of rubble. 

Robbie’s upper lip curled in anger. 

“If _any_ of those kids have even a _single_ bad dream, or you have hurt them in any way I’ll…”

Íþrótt raised an eyebrow as Robbie searched his brain for something appropriately threatening. 

“...I’ll set Glanni on you!” He stuck out his tongue at the elf, to emphasise the point. 

The elf’s moustache twitched, although Robbie couldn’t be sure if it was in annoyance or amusement. 

“Well,” Íþrótt conceded, “if you’ll take it, I can make my assurances to you that the children are not traumatised. I left them working to fix up one of the empty houses in Lazy Town so that Sportacus can live in it, should he decide to return.”

Robbie softened immediately. The kids were creating a new home for Sportacus! That was just like them, so kind and thoughtful, it was almost hard to believe he’d ever wanted them to be lazy. Assuming they stayed quiet while he was asleep, and Sportacus did return, he could almost envision the possibility of a perfect life to return to. 

“Those kids…” he shook his head with a smile. 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” the elf continued flatly, “the project is being overseen by the mayor. I suspect that you’ll discover it’s more of a mess now than when they started.”

Robbie shrugged, acknowledging the likelihood of the elf’s statement. 

“It’s the thought that counts.”

Silence hung between them for a few seconds - the wind whistling through the weaving of the basket. 

“Can I ask you something Robbie?”

He looked up at the old Hero. 

“Sure,” he shrugged. 

“What was it that drew you to Sportacus? I had always believed fae to be selfish creatures and yet your relationship, as I see it, is completely loving and equal.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow, “You’ve hit the nail on the head there grandpa. I love him. We fae are _capable_ of love, you know. In fact we feel it more _intensely_ and more _deeply_ than a simple elf like you could ever hope to understand!”

He was getting angry now, his voice raising as he continued. 

“Would you prefer it if I told you that Sportacus started out as a _toy_ to me? A very sexy, muscular curiosity for me to poke and prod and pull his pigtails? I know that you’ve all seen a lovely little film of that bit. Did you enjoy it old man? Watching me possess every part of him and seeing how much he wanted it.”

Íþrótt, for his part, stayed silent through Robbie’s tirade. 

“Or maybe I should tell you how he greeted me with a smile and a wave every day? How I left him gifts and he purred when I held his hand. That our love can never be broken, not by separating us or _beating_ us. Sportacus and I are forever. He’s mine.”

Robbie finished his rant, feeling slightly breathless. The tingle rising in his skin signalled that he’d started to lose control of his magic, and he suspected it had probably started to show in his face. He blinked his eyes a few times and took in a couple of deep breaths. If his eyes had turned black then that should get them back to their normal colour. It wasn’t something that happened to him often, but fae sometimes created defensive glamours on themselves when riled. Although Robbie usually defaulted to the latter when it came to fight or flight, he was acutely aware that he was stuck in this infernal balloon with someone who was a lot stronger than he was.

The elf across from him was regarding him thoughtfully, not in the least bit intimidated by his outburst. Number Three was clearly made of strong stuff. 

“My apologies,” he said, “my question was worded insensitively. I have not had much call to converse with a fae beyond petty chases, and I have never had the opportunity to visit the Fairy Courts. I’m sorry to have caused offence and I appreciate your honesty.”

“And I _appreciate_ your apology.” Robbie grunted. The old hero was blunt and abrasive sometimes, but he had good intentions it was clear to see.   
“I’m going to sleep now so there will be no more _conversing_ for the rest of this trip!” He announced. 

Dramatically, Robbie flopped down onto the floor of the basket, wincing as his shoulder took the brunt of the fall without the use of his hands to catch himself.   
He wriggled around until most of him was covered by a blanket and something - possibly a bag, was under his head as a pillow.   
It wasn’t a dignified display, but he wasn’t going to give the elf the satisfaction of asking for help. 

The whistling wind and rocking of the basket seemed soothing, rather than terrifying, now that he was lying down and soon Robbie Rotten was fast asleep, snoring gently, and he was carried into the night towards the elf lands. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone out there reading this is having a great day!


	24. Confronting the Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three elves and one fae enact their plan.

After Sportacus had awoken he’d spent the last leg of the journey trying desperately to eat his way through an entire apple. Íþró had encouraged him to keep his strength up but his stomach was too tied up in knots and it had killed his desire to eat. In the end he gave up around halfway through. Half an apple was better than the empty stomach he’s faced the council on last time and, although it wasn’t ideal, it would have to do.

Above him, with his leg braced up on the edge of the wicker basket, his brother was looking ahead through his telescope.

“There she is.” He announced, lowering the instrument and jumping down into the basket. “I’ve never been less happy to come home before.”

Sportacus grimaced. “You and me both Íþró.”

Their landing was uneventful - aided by what seemed like the entire academy's worth of cadets out to help bring them down. Sportacus stood up on shaky legs but before he had time to even catch his balance he felt himself falling as strong hands launched him through the open basket door.

He tumbled to the ground, landing in soft grass and rolling with the impact as best he could with his hands bound in front of him.  
Again, before he could clamber to his feet by himself, Íþró was hauling him up by his arms.

“Get moving!”

Íþró’s voice was harsh, just as it had been last time, except that this time Sportacus knew that he was only pretending. The manhandling was real enough though.

A few lengths away from them across the field, Sportacus could see Íþrótt and Robbie disembarking from their balloon. His boyfriend’s hands were tied behind his back and his face was curled into a cruel sneer. He walked upright, head held high, and wasn’t struggling. Sportacus marvelled at the power and presence his sweet little Robbie was projecting, every inch the domineering fae conqueror he was pretending to be.  
His wonderment was interrupted by a sharp shove in the direction of the citadel.

“I said move!”

Sportacus took in the rows of young, impressionable faces watching them, all semblance of securing the balloons halted in favour of gawking at the disgraced Hero.  
Time to give them a show.

He stood his ground, turning to face his brother. “Bastard!”   
He spat on the ground at Íþró’s feet.

A flicker of a question passed across the older elf’s face before the angry mask slipped back on and he pulled his fist back. The thudding pain of an impact flashed through Sportacus’s cheekbone as Íþró’s punch landed true and he found himself once again sprawling to the ground. A painful stab lanced through him as he felt one of the cuts on his back tear open again upon impacting the ground. He cried out.

Íþró was down at his level in a second, appearing to all intents and purposes as though he were catching him in a wrestling hold but his eyes were filled with worry.

“Stay in character Íþró,” Sportacus muttered through clenched teeth as quietly as he could, “I’ll be fine. Drag me in by the hair.”

“What?” Íþró muttered back.

“ _Drag_ me by my _hair_ Íþró! I won’t have to struggle as much.”

His brother nodded lightly, releasing his hold and fisting his hand into Sportacus’s hair. The younger elf cried out as, true to his request, Íþró dragged him upwards by it. Tears sprang into his eyes and his feet scrabbled for purchase under him as Íþró set off towards the citadel, dragging him along behind.

As he’d predicted, there wasn’t much he could do by way of protest other than clutch at his brother’s leather bracer with his bound hands, and desperately try to stay on his feet as they travelled. At least, he reasoned, the cadets were all getting a good view of the whip marks on his back. Hopefully it would make them think twice about the infallible word of the Council.

As they travelled further into the citadel, Íþró raised his arm higher, allowing Sportacus to stumble along more or less upright and so he was able to catch the occasional glance of Robbie, whenever they turned a corner and he was able to look momentarily over his shoulder.  
His love was still walking proudly, every inch the gentleman, seemingly unperturbed by the goings on around him. Íþrótt had a grip on his arm, but as he wasn’t struggling, this had every appearance of being precautionary rather than preventative.

A small part of him wished that he hadn’t told Íþró to drag him along by his hair, but the looks on the faces of the elves they passed convinced him that they were making an impact. And that’s what they were here to do after all, create a distraction - put on a show. Hopefully, wherever he was, Glanni was ready for them.

The walk through the citadel went by in a blur - literally in his case given the tears in his eyes, and soon they were moving through the large golden gates into the central garden.  
Unlike on previous visits, it was packed. Elves filled every inch of space, turning to stare at them as they passed by. Some of the colourful flowers in the flowerbeds had seemingly been trampled by impatient feet and were crushed against the soil, the glitter oozing out of them sadly.

A hush fell across the crowd as they moved through it, following the twisting paths through the garden. Sportacus noticed a mix of expressions, some horrified, some angry, some pitying and many more besides.  
And that's when he saw it.

Set up on the lawn beside the white marble rotunda were two wooden platforms. One was draped in silver cloth. The other sported a scaffold from which two nooses hung suspended over two, closed, trap doors.

Sportacus felt Íþró stumble a little as he, too, noticed the setup on the lawn. Sportacus took that as his cue and began to struggle, taking advantage of his brother’s momentary lax grip. He twisted his body as though he were trying to run but felt his head being wrenched back as the grip tightened once again. Íþró’s other hand came to his shoulder, steering him forward, as they resumed their march along the twisting path towards the rotunda.

The door was, as always, flanked by ceremonial guardsmen and Sportacus realised with a jolt of recognition; the one on the left, mouth hanging agape and eyes wide with worry, was the elf who had helped him once before - Edvard. But before he could dwell on it much he was shoved through the doorway and into the rotunda once again. It was time to face the Council.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Number Three escorted the fae inside the Council Chamber, following Number Eight and his struggling brother. Íþróttaálfurinn reached the central point of the floor first, directly under the apex of the dome, and threw his brother roughly onto the cold marble ground - Sportacus crying out as he landed.

Beneath his hand, the muscles of Robbie’s arm tensed slightly and then released. It would’ve been imperceptible to any outside observer, but Íþrótt knew it to be an expression of concern for his lover. The only expression the fae would allow himself whilst remaining ‘in character’.

Together they walked forwards, coming level with the other two, to where Íþrótt pushed Robbie to his knees with a little pressure on the top of his shoulders.  
Above them, lining the walls as they had done once before, were the many faces of the Elf Council, resplendent in their silvery robes. He found that it was almost beyond belief, that so many of them weren’t even elves at all. And hopefully today they would show that.

“Elf Council. I bring you the fugitives from Lazy Town; the fae known as Robbie Rotten, and the elf Sportacus, formerly known as Number Ten!”  
Íþróttaálfurinn punctuated his grand speech with a flourish, throwing something blue onto the ground in front of the bound prisoners. Íþrótt could see, it was Sportacus’s blue vest and it had come to rest on the floor facing downwards revealing the large white number to the room.

“And I surrender his crystal to you!” Íþróttaálfurinn drew Sportacus’s crystal from his pocket and held it up for all to see before placing it on top of the discarded vest.

The council elf in the centre of the front bench rose to his feet.

“Thank you Number Eight, you have done well.” He turned to the two prisoners, “It didn’t take us long to find you did it?”

Robbie looked up at the council elf defiantly.  
“I presume the Elf Council has done me the honour of inviting me here so that we might discuss compensation for the damage done to my property.”

“YOU,” the council elf pointed at Robbie, “Fae, have taken that which does not belong to you and you are here to face the consequences!”

“Ah,” Robbie replied calmly, his voice low and authoritative, “Actually I think you’ll find he is mine. I _staked_ my claim, and he _came_ willingly. Anyone at the Fairy Court would recognise my right of ownership over this elf.”

“This is NOT the Fairy Court-” The council elf began, but Robbie cut him off.

“Therefore, I demand reparation for the physical and emotional destruction of my property _at your hands_. Be thankful that I do not require payment _in kind_!”

The council elf laughed, cold and mocking.

“What say you _boy_?” He addressed Sportacus, “Do you consider yourself the _property_ of this fae?”

Sportacus for his part looked back and forth between Robbie and the faces of the Council, even glancing back to meet Íþrótt’s gaze. Bless him, Íþrótt liked Sportacus a lot but he wasn’t exactly the fastest on the uptake. Luckily the Lazy Town posting required mostly brawn and kindness, but not brains.

“I _love_ Robbie!” He stated after a long pause. Could have been worse, Íþrótt thought.

“Ha!” The council elf laughed, “Did we not teach you the error of your ways _thoroughly_ enough the last time you came before us _boy_? Shall we give you that lesson again and hope it _sinks in_ better this time?”

Íþrótt saw that the threat landed with his colleagues. Íþróttaálfurinn stiffened whilst Robbie’s confident smile faltered. Sportacus himself began to tremble, but he kept his chin up in defiance.

“I LOVE Robbie!” He shouted, “No matter what you do to me I will _always_ love him!”

Robbie recovered himself, fixing the smile back onto his face.  
“As you can see,” He stated calmly, “You have your proof that he is entirely mine, and as it is also evident, he has been deliberately damaged whilst in your custody. You admitted it yourself. Now I demand an apology.”

“I grow tired of you _fae_! Your antics no longer amuse me. You are here to face the same consequences as _him_. You are an accomplice to his treachery at least, and the cause of it at most.”

“Oh so this is a _trial_!” Robbie rolled his eyes. “Fine then, tell me what I am charged with.”

“You will keep silent FAE!” Íþróttaálfurinn roared, backhanding Robbie across the face. 

Sportacus took the opportunity to launch himself towards his boyfriend crying “Robbie!”

There was a brief tussle between the two brothers as Íþróttaálfurinn wrestled to get Sportacus back under control. For his part Íþrótt laid a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. What would look like a warning to the onlookers would hopefully communicate concern and encouragement to the fae himself.  
It didn’t so much matter what the content of their discussions with the Council were, so long as Glanni had time to do his stuff and that they all ended up outside in the end. The gallows he’d seen on the way in were promising.

“As you can see,” Íþrótt spoke up, “this elf is unremorseful and this fae unrepentant. Between them they have sullied the good reputation of the Numbered Heroes and, by extension, all of elf kind. If I might humbly make a suggestion, an example needs to be made of them.”

“What kind of example would you have us make, Number Three?” A simpering female voice floated down from the rows of council elves.

“It is not my place to say.” He replied quickly, hoping that they would debate the issue at length.

“And what would you say Number Eight?” The simpering voice continued, “What would you do to an elf who, what were your words? …has no business calling himself a hero?”

“Urrr…” Íþróttaálfurinn faltered, “I would…” 

Íþrótt caught his gaze as he looked round at him for support. He looked a little lost. 

“Number Eight, if I may speak for him,” Íþrótt interrupted, “is worried that his position as a relation of the prisoner might compromise his own integrity as a Numbered Hero. Would the Council be able to offer an assurance, following the examination of these fugitives, that his record will remain unblemished?”

That should keep them talking for a while, Íþrótt thought. 

“The actions of Number Eight are not in question.” The council elf hissed, “His record in this matter has been exemplary.”

“Thank you.” Íþróttaálfurinn replied stiffly, “that is most gratifying to hear.”

“The people should know of this,” Íþrótt interjected suddenly. If they could just get the council to go outside then they might be able to get a signal to Glanni.   
“Allow Number Eight and I parade them to the crowds. Tell the people of these traitor’s crimes!”

“I am NOT a traitor!” Sportacus shouted up from the floor, “Love is NEVER wrong!”

Íþróttaálfurinn kicked Sportacus in the side and he went down with a cry. 

“How dare you touch my elf! Don’t you dare hurt him!” Robbie roared, attempting to stand.   
Íþrótt pushed him down again, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. This wasn’t going as smoothly as he had envisioned. 

“Shut UP!” Íþróttaálfurinn shouted back, once again missing the point. 

“Stay yourself Number Eight,” the council elf spoke from on high with an uncharacteristic grin. “Allow them to speak if they wish for, I fancy, these will be the last words they will utter in this life.”

Íþrótt saw the colour drain from his companions faces as they each remembered the gallows set up outside. 

“No!” Sportacus shouted, fighting against his brother to stand.   
“Take me! Let Robbie go! He’s innocent! He isn’t even an elf-”

“You can’t be serious!” Robbie shouted over him, “The Fairy Court would never allow it-”

Íþrótt saw Íþróttaálfurinn take a step forward. 

“Please reconsider, please he is my brother!”

If he had been anywhere other than the Council Chamber Íþrótt would’ve smacked his hand to his forehead in exasperation. How hard was it to stay focussed on the mission!?

“The Council is bold and decisive!” He shouted over his companions, “show the people the proper penalty for treachery and rid us of these embarrassments once and for all!”

Íþróttaálfurinn turned and shot a look of pure rage towards Íþrótt. If he had ever wondered how Sportacus had felt when chained to the pillar, now he knew - his fury was tangible.   
Number Eight turned back to the Council and held his hands up pleadingly. 

“Please reconsider, maybe I was too hasty. There hasn’t been an execution in the elf lands for centuries, please! You can’t do this!”

Íþrótt strode forward, past where Sportacus and Robbie were kneeling on the floor, and grasped Íþróttaálfurinn by the shoulder. 

“Have courage Number Eight!” He said aloud for the benefit of those watching from above, before dropping his voice to a whisper. It was risky but he judged it necessary for the integrity of the plan.   
“What are you doing, you fool? We need to take them outside!”

Íþróttaálfurinn’s eyes widened in understanding. He nodded, turning back to the faces of the Council, voice hoarse with emotion. 

“Yes, yes. Number Three is right. My brother is already lost… anything now would be… a mercy.”

The council elf stood. 

“I’m glad to see the esteemed Numbered Heroes are in agreement. The opinions of the Heroes are always to be valued, especially in such a unique circumstance as these.”  
He paused.  
“Let the record show, the fugitives Sportacus, formerly known as Number Ten, and Robbie Rotten, fae of Lazy Town, have been brought before the Elf Council accused of treason. They have offered no defence and are unrepentant and therefore it is the regrettable decision of this Council to sentence both of the prisoners to death by hanging. Sentence to be carried out immediately. The Council has spoken.”

“NO!” Sportacus’s shout mingled with Robbie’s.   
“You can’t do this!”

Both of them began to rise to their feet. Íþrótt tapped Íþróttaálfurinn on the shoulder and ran to restrain Robbie. 

Together, he and Number Eight pulled the two prisoners from the room. Both Robbie and Sportacus came with them easily, seemingly in a daze, stumbling along nervously. 

Behind them the rows of council elves were standing up, adjusting their robes and chatting amongst one another as they moved towards a discrete exit way. 

This was it. Showtime. Íþrótt sure hoped that Glanni was ready for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chants* terrible plan, terrible plan, terrible terrible terrible plan!


	25. The Gallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prisoners are brought to the gallows in front of the assembled crowds.

Sportacus heard the execution order with a ringing in his ears. From the moment they’d all stepped inside the council chamber he had felt all confidence in this plan slipping away from him. He’d done his best to go along with his brother and Number Three but the twists and turns of the conversation had confused him. 

And now he was stumbling along, Íþró’s hands guiding him towards the exit, where four ceremonial guards were making ready to escort them out to the waiting crowds beyond. 

The elf he recognised - Edvard, took position in front of the group with the other guard from outside the door, and the other two fell into step behind them. 

Íþró, Íþrótt, Robbie and Sportacus himself were bunched in the middle, separated from the crowds by their escort. 

Ahead of them, like a macabre way-point, were the silhouetted angles of the gallows. 

“Urrr… is this part of the plan?” Robbie whispered nervously. 

Íþró leaned in, bringing Sportacus in closer to the other two so that they were all within discussion distance. 

“I’m not happy about this Three, we should cut our losses now and make a break for it.” The younger hero was looking around fearfully, taking stock of the exits. 

“Hold your nerve everyone.” Íþrótt warmed steadily, “we have to wait for the Council to assemble outside.”

The council elves were, Sportacus could see, beginning to file out of the rotunda and were making their way over to the dais draped in silks. 

“No” Robbie said, his voice raising as he began to struggle. “No I don’t want to die!”

“Shut up!” Íþrótt hissed at him through clenched teeth. 

“No! This has gone too far!” Robbie was shouting now, “We need to stop Íþrótt!”

A shiver of fear ran through Sportacus. If Robbie was freaking out then maybe things were worse than he feared. He’d trusted that his brother and Íþrótt had things under control but now he was starting to worry. 

“Íþró…” he began hesitantly, “I’m not sure if this is a good idea...”

The crowd parted before them as the guards continued their resolute escort. The gallows stretched up before them ominously. 

Suddenly Sportacus glimpsed it. A familiar face in the crowd. Glanni!  
The fae was grinning, he winked as they passed. 

Sportacus felt a wave of relief crashing over him. Glanni was here! That meant everything was going to be fine! Didn’t it?

Beside him Robbie was still struggling, trying to wrench himself from Íþrótt’s grasp. Íþrótt himself was looking into the crowd - had he seen Glanni too?

Sportacus tried to whisper a reassurance to his companions but the crowd had begun jeering and booing as they passed and his words were lost in the din. 

As they moved up the steps onto the wooden platform - Sportacus walking and Robbie being pushed, the elf could see the familiar rows of council faces lined up opposite, in position to get the best view of events. 

Now that they were further away from the crowd Sportacus turned to his brother.   
“It’s ok Íþró! I saw-”

He was cut off as Edvard stepped between him and his brother, motioning for Íþró to step back. 

Sportacus was pushed down onto his knees, craning his neck to try and keep sight of Íþró as Edvard unbound his hands from in front of them and pulled his arms round behind his back. The guard leaned in to whisper into Sportacus’s ear as his hands were tied once again behind him. 

“I’m sorry about this Number Ten, you deserve better. I wish I could help you.”

Sportacus felt himself being coaxed to his feet again and manoeuvred onto the square outlined trapdoor. To his right Robbie was similarly positioned. 

“Edvard I-”

The power of speech failed him as a thick rope noose was slipped over his head and tightened around his neck.   
Sportacus’s heart jumped in his chest. He looked across to Robbie - the other guard was slipping a rope around his neck too, his legs were shaking at the knees and he looked terrified. 

“Assembled Elves! Hear the words of the High Council of the Elf Lands.”  
The spokesman for the council elves had moved to the front of the dais and was addressing the crowd.   
“Before you stands an unprecedented criminal. This is the first elf in our history to be stripped of his Numbered status!”

There was an intake of breath from the crowd.

“He has abused the trust placed in him, endangered the humans in his charge and sullied the good reputation of the elves. The fae standing next to him is his accomplice, seducer and is equally at fault. Today you will see justice done on them both.” 

The crowd of on-looking elves who had remained respectfully silent during the council elf’s statement began to murmur and mutter restlessly and soon some were jeering up to where Sportacus and Robbie were precariously positioned. 

Sportacus scanned the crowd desperately searching for the familiar pointed face of his lover's brother. Where was Glanni?  
He tried to turn around, hoping to catch a glimpse of his own brother but the rope around his neck stopped him from turning all the way. He could see Íþrótt standing stiffly a few meters behind Robbie and so presumed that Íþró was close behind him, although he couldn’t see him to verify that. It comforted him somewhat to know that his brother was close by, they were running out of time. 

Sportacus turned back to the crowd. Still no sign of Glanni amongst the throng but the lead council elf had taken a step forward, raising his hand. 

To Sportacus’s left Edvard was taking position beside a large wooden lever. He met Sportacus’s eyes apologetically before looking away towards the Council dais. To Sportacus’s right, beyond where Robbie was shaking, the other ceremonial guard was taking position next to an identical lever.

A hush fell across the crowd. 

Sportacus wanted to say something, wanted to protest, shout for help - anything! But his mouth was dry and he could hear his blood pulsing through his ears. He shivered, the cold air whistling across his bare torso raising goosebumps in its wake. 

That single moment seemed to go on forever…

Until the council elf dropped his hand. 

At that precise moment there was a loud bang as the council dais was enveloped in a large cloud of silver glittering smoke. 

Sportacus let out the breath he’d been holding.   
To his left Edvard had released his grip on the lever and was now looking in horror over to the engulfing smoke cloud.   
Sportacus turned his head to his right and felt his stomach drop. 

Where Robbie had been standing there was now a hole in the floor, and the fae was dangling through it, struggling and choking. 

“ROBBIE!”

Sportacus cried desperately, unable to run with the noose tight around his neck. 

“Help him, please help him! ROBBIE!”

There was a yellow flash as someone streaked past him in a blur and jumped down the hole.   
Robbie gasped in a desperate breath as he was hoisted up from below and the pressure was relieved round his neck. 

Sportacus struggled, desperate to break free of his bonds and run to his lover.   
Out of the corner of his eye he could make out a commotion through the dissipating smoke as the ethereal, slender faces of the changelings were spotted by the crowd. 

“I’ve got you, Ten I’ve got you.” Íþrótt’s voice came from behind him and Sportacus felt his hands release from behind his back.   
He ripped the noose from around his neck and charged over to Robbie. 

Between the two of them the brothers hoisted the fae out of the hole and untangled him from the dangling rope. He collapsed onto the decking and Sportacus gathered him into his arms kissing his lips, face, hair - anywhere he could reach.   
Robbie’s voice hitched as he drew shaky breaths, a bruise starting to form around his neck. 

“Remind me never to go along with any plans made by stupid elves ever again!”

Sportacus was vaguely aware of a green and blue blur somersaulting over his head and flipping over to the council dais which was in uproar but most of his attentions were focused on the fae in his arms. 

With fumbling fingers he shakily undid the ropes binding Robbie’s hands behind his back. The lanky man hissed as his shoulders released, and Sportacus rubbed his arms with shaking hands. 

Edvard crouched down into Sportacus’s field of view. 

“You need to get out, now! Things could get ugly here.”  
The young guard elf looked up to where Íþró was hovering over them, “Number Eight, you need to get them out of here. I can show you a way out.”

Sportacus felt a hand on his elbow and rose obediently, lifting Robbie along with him. He felt the weight of the fae reduce as Íþró hoisted him from the other side and together they carried Robbie down from the gallows and away down a winding path - following Edvard’s lead. 

Now that they were away from the thronging crowds Sportacus could see that more than just being trampled, the flowers lining the paths had been sheared clean through the stems. For the first time their journey through the garden was not overpowered by the cloying sweetness of the floral excretions. Viscous silver glitter oozed out of the beheaded stems sadly. 

Robbie’s wheezing coughs brought Sportacus back to the present just in time for him to see Íþró scoop the fae up into his arms and set off at a faster pace. 

Sportacus ran to keep up and soon Edvard turned them down a small, gravel covered path which snuck behind some large golden bushes.   
The guard led them to a small door. 

“This will let you back into the Citadel through the service corridors. Keep to the left and you should come out close to the airfield entrance. Good luck Number Eight, Number Ten.”

Íþró pauses at the door, eyeing Edvard suspiciously.   
“Why are you helping us?”

Edvard smiles shyly. “We were raised upon the stories of the Numbered at the Academy. There wasn’t a single one of us who didn’t want to be you. You are legends.”

Sportacus grasped his hand, just as he had done in the cell on his last visit to the citadel.   
“Thank you Edvard. I will not forget your kindness.”

“It’s been an honour Number Ten.” The guard smiled. “Now go! I must return to the centre.”

With only a final glance back, Íþró and Sportacus hustled the snuffling Robbie through the door and ran along the back corridors to freedom. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have any words to justify this


	26. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ithro helps Sportacus and Robbie escape from the Elf Lands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theres... er... smut in this one, unbelievably.

By the time they reached the balloon field Íþróttaálfurinn had begun to process what had just happened in the Central Gardens.   
That had been, to put it mildly, too close for comfort. And now he was carrying the very fae he had once desired to kill, away to safety in his arms.   
His little brother Sportacus ran beside him, still looking rather dazed. 

In front of them the two Hero balloons stood proudly on the landing strip, surrounded by the gaggle of cadets who were attending to them. 

Íþróttaálfurinn marched over, Sportacus looked at him nervously. 

“Íþró... there’s too many of them...”

In his arms the fae groaned, gasping out in a husky growl.  
“If you use me as a battering ram I swear I will-”

Sportacus cut him off, “Don’t talk Robbie, rest your voice!”

The fae stuck him tongue out in response but did lift a hand to the bruise rapidly forming on his neck. 

Sportacus stopped dead in his tracks and Íþróttaálfurinn paused. Ahead of them the cadets had spotted their approach. 

“Walk confidently, hold your head high.”

“Easy for you to say,” Sportacus muttered, “you’re wearing a shirt.”

In his arms the fae snorted. 

“Just do it. You have every right to be here Sportacus.”

Íþróttaálfurinn began walking forward purposefully again and he sensed his brother reluctantly fall in step behind him. 

As they approached down the hill the cadets seemed to stop in their activities and come forward, seemingly unsure of whether to intervene or scurry away. Íþróttaálfurinn fixed a look of grim determination on his face and kept his eyes focussed forward on his own balloon. It looked ready to fly which was promising, but was entirely surrounded by young sports elves which would make things difficult should they try to stop them. 

When Íþróttaálfurinn reached the shadow of his balloon, a uniformed cadet took a shaky step forwards out to meet the group.   
She cast a nervous glance at Sportacus and Robbie, but focused her attentions on the older elf. 

“Number Eight. How can we help you?”

Íþróttaálfurinn mustered all of the authority of his office for his reply. 

“I am escorting these _free men_ home. I require my balloon.”

The cadet glanced at Sportacus again but stepped aside. Behind her the cadets parted, clearing a path to the entrance to his balloon. 

“Of course Number Eight, Number Ten. Have a pleasant journey.”

Not wanting to push his luck, Íþróttaálfurinn hustled Robbie and Sportacus into the balloon basket and placed the fae gently on the floor. Sportacus was by his side immediately whilst Íþróttaálfurinn stood up and made preparations to fly. 

With an academy’s worth of cadets surrounding them, the take-off happened smoothly and efficiently so it wasn’t long at all before they were rising steadily into the air. Íþróttaálfurinn peered over the side to watch the cadets on the landing strip grow smaller and smaller below them. 

He breathed a sigh of relief to finally be flying away from the golden spires of the citadel, secretly hoping that he would not have to return for quite some time yet. At his feet, huddled in the corner of the basket, Sportacus had gathered his fae into his arms and pressed their heads together, lost in their own little world. 

The older elf wondered where they should go, wondering what Íþrótt would advise them to do. It was funny, during all of their planning meetings, they’d never once discussed what to do afterwards.   
It would probably be prudent to hide themselves away for a few days, until they knew if it would be safe for any of them to show their faces once again.   
It might well be the case that he and Number Three would be stripped of their titles as well, should the plan have failed. 

Íþróttaálfurinn tried to squash down the uneasy feelings that bubbled up with that thought and came to a decision. He knew where to go. A certain fae had been very accommodating, granting him the door codes and keys for a certain campsite. 

He steered the balloon so that the setting sun was behind them on the right and headed back towards Glæpur Glamping.

  
  


* * *

  
  


In the shadow of the balloon basket, huddled in the warm, protective arms of his lover, Robbie Rotten started to cry. For all his bravado during their escape, now that they were airborne the reality of the fact that he'd just been hung began to seep in.  
His neck and throat hurt where the rope had dug into him suddenly and, he suspected, a nice bruise was starting to appear there. He supposed he should probably be grateful that his neck hadn't snapped outright.

He longed for a return to the days in Lazy town where he and Sportacus had not a care in the world, save for their night time trysts and frantic fucking in the dark.  
Happier times. Easier times - no political intrigue or meddling elves! This was the last time he was ever getting involved in anything, that's for sure!

The elf holding him in an embrace rocked gently, keeping Robbie close to his chest, murmuring nonsense sounds into his hair. With his ear directly over Sportacus's heart, the fae calmed himself listening to the steady rhythmic beat which signalled that his lover was alive - it hadn't just been him in peril after all. They had both been lucky.

In the back of his mind he was vaguely aware of the yellow Hero buzzing about, adjusting flight controls or fidgeting with various equipment, but paid him no great attention. 

Robbie's silent tears ran off the end of his nose on his boyfriend's bare skin, causing the flesh to rise, bristling as the chill wind caught in the damp. Sportacus's arm drew smooth, soothing circles on his back, comforting him as though he were a child, and Robbie melted into it. Above him a dampness dripped into his hair. Sportacus was crying too.

The lovers stayed clasped in each other's arms, tears flowing silently, taking comfort from the embrace until they each fell asleep. When they awoke a few hours later, Robbie noted that a blanket had been draped around them while they slept, and that the balloon was now making its descent.

They touched down in the same area of sparse woodland that they had departed from, and Íþróttaálfurinn guided them towards the little door in the exterior wall, carrying their bags for them.   
Robbie noted with a wry smile how the yellow Hero punched in a PIN code, unlocking the door first time. Glanni really must trust this elf with his life to give him the key to his refuge. Just like when he had first invited Sportacus into his lair.

He squeezed his boyfriend's hand, neither of them quite yet willing to let go of one another, and followed the yellow Hero into the sweet, lush interior of his brother's high class sex campsite. For all its eccentricities, Robbie did feel safe here surrounded by something that was so quintessentially Glanni.

Íþróttaálfurinn began to speak as they trudged past the neat rose bushes.

"I… um… Glanni said he'd booked this one out for you for as long as you might need it so I figured it would be safest to come back here…"

He stopped outside the familiar tenth chalet and took out a key.

"You should have everything you need for now but I'll come back with some proper food this evening. I think we could all use a proper meal…"

He trailed off as he unlocked the door and led them through to the familiar interior. 

"Thanks Íþró." Robbie heard Sportacus murmur softly, letting go of Robbie's hand and going over to his brother.

The fae watched as the two elves struggled for words. Then Íþróttaálfurinn pulled Sportacus in for a tight hug.

"I love you brother." 

Robbie heard the older elf's whisper and decided to make a discreet exit. He turned and sloped away into the bedroom and flopped onto the giant silken bed. The brothers needed a moment, he knew, as a lot had passed between them recently. Not that Robbie trusted Íþró… except… it _had_ been his leather adorned arms that had lifted him to safety hadn't it? And Íþró again who'd carried him away. Perhaps… perhaps the old elf was trying to redeem himself.

Robbie considered, he could hold a grudge with the best of them, but Sportacus probably would want him and Íþró to get along. Making up his mind, he pushed himself up off the bed and hurried back into the main room just in time to hear Íþró's choked words.

"...by every star in the sky I swear I shall keep you both safe-"

The elf paused as he entered, looking across at him with red rimmed eyes.

"Urr, Mr. Íþró?..." Robbie began, "Number Eight? I just wanted to say err…" he fidgeted with the points on his waistcoat. "I just wanted to say… thanks… for saving me… or whatever."

Íþró looked faintly surprised whilst beside him Sportacus's face lit up in delight.  
After a pause the hero extended his hand.

"You're welcome… Robbie."

The fae took the offered hand with trepidation and instantly regretted it as his arm vibrated wildly in a tight, exuberant handshake. Like brother like brother so it would seem. He wrenched his hand back as soon as the strong grip on his fingers lessened.

"Yes, well, I'll kill you if you hurt him again!" He huffed. "And I'll tell Glanni to lock your little number eight in a cage and not let you cum for a whole month as well!"

Both the elves went bright red and he laughed, the air squeezing through his throat catching painfully. He winced.

"Worth it." He muttered, turning away.

Flopping onto the bed once again he heard the sound of distant, embarrassed, farewells and the door shutting and then suddenly his lover was clambering onto the bed beside him.

"I can't bear to think that I almost lost you today." Robbie spoke quietly, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Sportacus's light caress of his face brought his head round and his vision was suddenly filled with two large, crystal blue eyes.

"Robbie…" Sportacus's fingers trailed down to his neck, "I don't know what I would've done if… I'm sorry that you were ever dragged into this mess."

"You and me both, Blue Elf." Robbie smirked, "As far as I see it the moment we're both back in Lazy Town I'm locking us both safely away in my bunker and I'm never letting you leave."

Sportacus smiled, a little sadly.

"That sounds lovely… except how would I exercise properly, trapped underground?"

The fae grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, I'd make sure you got plenty of exercise, and I've got my very own special sportscandy for you to suck on to keep you full… you would be completely safe forever."

Sportacus giggled, "I do like sportscandy. But I'm not convinced about these exercises… I think you'll have to show me."

"Ahh!" Robbie exclaimed, sitting up. "Well the most important thing about these exercises is the clothes… well, the lack of them. Get naked and I will teach you."

Sportacus almost toppled over in his rush to clamber off the bed and rid himself of his trousers and shoes. Robbie tutted.

"I can see you have never done any exercises, you're very clumsy."   
He elegantly slid onto his feet and took advantage of Sportacus fumbling with his shoes to spin around on the sport. When the magic cleared he posed, nude and hard.

With both of them devoid of clothing, Robbie instructed the elf onto all fours, explaining carefully about the importance of bracing one's weight evenly over the centre of gravity. Sportacus stifled a laugh at one point, but was clearly enjoying himself as the interest hanging between his legs was evident. 

"And now we come to a very important lesson… stretching!" 

The fae slicked up his fingers from the bottle of lube he'd swiped from the racks of accessories and eased two into Sportacus's hole. It took them easily, sucking them in as deep as they'd go.

"Stretching…" he began as he started to work Sportacus open with his fingers, "...is one of the most important things with exercise… because you have to be very loose…"

Sportacus moaned as his fingers brushed over the sensitive nub inside him. Robbie added a third finger and the elf squirmed back onto it.

"Luckily," he grinned, "you seem already to be… naturally pliant."

The elf snorted. "I think you're getting your facts a little confused-"

"Hey," Robbie swatted the elf's plump arse, "who's giving the lesson here?"

"Sorry Robbie." Sportacus's voice conveyed no signs of remorse, despite his words. Robbie swatted him again, enjoying the shudder it drew.

"So. Now that you have properly stretched…" he withdrew his fingers causing a moan of loss to escape from the elf, "we can begin the exercises."

Quickly, the fae poured out more lube and slicked himself up. He guided himself to Sportacus's entrance and pushed in, relishing the hot tightness around him. Below him the elf writhed and panted, pushing back, desperate for more.

Robbie pushed in as far as he could before rocking his hips, sliding out and in again. Sportacus bucked and moaned, responding to his touches obscenely. Robbie picked up the pace.

The feeling of being fully sheathed in his lover, of them moving together as though they were one being, was exquisite - an unparalleled thrill and a reminder that they were both unquestioningly alive. Robbie was overcome with how connected they were in that moment, and how much he loved this stupid muscled elf.

"So… ah… which muscles exactly does this… _exercise_ work?"

Robbie growled, he could _feel_ the elf smirking at him.

"Shut up. I love you."

Sportacus laughed, sending ripples through both of them.

"I love you too… but... _you_ started it."

Robbie cantered his hips, angling to hit against Sportacus's prostate with every thrust. He drove in deep and fast, panting with the exertion. Laid out in front of him like on a canvas stretched over a frame, the stark red lines crossing his lover's back mapped the rippling undulations of the skin as it slid over the muscles beneath. It was strangely beautiful, in a way, seeing them so unashamedly presented, - a unique identifier, like a signature.

The fae knew that these marks, however much they faded, would be with his elf forever, a constant reminder of the events that they were living through. He leaned down and placed a careful kiss on one of his lover's immaculate shoulder blades.   
They were made to be together, he and Sportacus, they fitted together so well, complimented each other so entirely. The love he felt consumed him utterly.

Sportacus clenched around him, grunting that he was close which brought Robbie out of his reverie. He reached down, wrapping a hand around his lover's neglected cock and pumped him firmly in time with his thrusts.  
The elf began to moan louder, his arms starting to shake with the effort of holding himself up and Robbie knew that he was close.

He leaned forward, whispering into Sportacus's ear.

"Cum for me my love, show me how alive you are."

The elf bucked and cried out, "I am alive… we're _both_ alive… Robbie… ahh, I lo-... I love…"

Sportacus came with a sob across the silken bedsheets. The clenching around him was enough to send Robbie over the edge and he came with a shout, emptying himself deep into his lover.  
The elf collapsed forwards onto his elbows, clenching around Robbie, milking him for every drop through the waves of his climax.

As the ripples of pleasure faded, both of them collapsed together into a tangled, sweaty heap on the bed. Robbie brushed a damp, blond curl away from the elf's eyes, tucking it behind his ear. He kissed the tip of the cute, pale nose.

"Perfect… as always… my little elf."

Sportacus smiled, his eyes filled with love.   
"Thank you for making up with Íþró… I know it would not have been easy for you. It… means a lot."

Robbie fiddled with another loose strand of blond hair.  
"Yes, well, I know you wanted me to… but I still don't like what he did!"

"That's ok, it means a lot that you're trying." Sportacus grasped Robbie's fidgeting hand and twisted their fingers together, stroking lightly with his thumb.  
"Robbie... Would you really tell Glanni not to have sex with my brother?"

The fae laughed, "Only if he deserved it."

Sportacus blushed. "Remind me never to get on your bad side…"

"Oh my love, my little elven darling," Robbie untangled his hand and booped him on the nose, "withholding sex from you would only hurt me. No, I can think of better ways to punish you if you ever do… get on my bad side."

Sportacus shivered. "I can't wait to find out!"

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who has commented or left kudos! I can't quite believe people are sticking with this ludicrous story XD


	27. A Melancholy Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group reunite at Glaepur Glamping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here he is folks, I know you've been waiting for him...

When Íþróttaálfurinn eventually returned to the tenth chalet with food, the sky was dark and Glanni was with him.

Sportacus rose from the sofa when they entered as Robbie swept past him to greet his brother.

"Glanni!"

"Hey little bro, what's popping?"

Robbie's body language shifted as he crossed his arms and seemed, before their eyes, to grow several inches in height.

"You took your time didn't you! Would it have killed you to set that thing off a bit sooner?"

Even Sportacus could see Glanni's unremorseful smirk.

"Oh brother, what are sports elves for if not last minute rescues?" The older fae patted his brother on the arm. "Besides, did you see their faces?! You couldn't have asked for a more dramatic reveal!"

"Oh I'm _so glad_ that my _execution_ was _dramatic_ enough for you!" Robbie exclaimed sarcastically, waving his hands about.

"Ah Gentlemen, gentlemen please!" Íþróttaálfurinn interrupted, "Let us eat before we lay blame at each other's doors. I, for one, am famished."

The older elf crossed to the kitchenette and placed a bag up on the counter, from which he removed four reusable containers.

To Glanni and Robbie he gave the two tubs containing something creamy, gooey and yellow. Robbie cracked open the lid and sniffed at the contents suspiciously. 

"Macaroni cheese." Íþróttaálfurinn clarified, "And I've got you some cake for afters."

The older elf slid one of the other containers over to Sportacus who opened it gratefully, his stomach rumbling. Inside was half a fish, lightly cooked, covered in slices of lemon and orange lying on a bed of fresh vegetables. It smelt delicious.

He grinned, "Thank you Íþró!"

The fae wrinkled their noses when the smell of fish hit them, but Sportacus was grateful to note than neither of them decided to comment. Perhaps that was more of a testament to their appetites rather than some sociable sense politeness.  
Íþró fetched some cutlery from a drawer and handed it round. The four of them tucked in immediately, and for the first few minutes there was silence as they all ate.

Sportacus savoured the taste of good, fresh fish on his tongue. It had been a long time since he'd had a meal like this, preferring to live mostly off fruit and vegetables when he was on duty in Lazy Town. It was easily stored in his airship and he didn't have the luxury of any good local fishing rivers to dip into. It wasn't ideal, but it was a sacrifice necessary for his job as a Hero.

Once they had all licked their plates clean, figuratively speaking except in Glanni's case, Íþró brought out some bowls and removed from the bag a couple of large, indulgent slices of cake, a punnet of strawberries and a carton of pouring cream.

The cake and the strawberries went to the fae and elves respectively but all four of them shared the cream. No magical creature alive disliked cream, although Sportacus refused to allow any on his airship, knowing he would struggle to resist temptation. But just this once, as a treat, it wouldn't hurt. 

He raised the spoon to his mouth and licked the cream from it, not even getting a mouthful of strawberry with it. It was divine. 

"So," Íþró began once they were all firmly entrenched in their pudding bowls, "Glanni, tell us what happened."

The fae in question licked his lips, swallowing a mouthful of the sticky cake.

"I left to visit one of my contacts in Mayhem Town. I'd not encountered Changelings before personally… not _knowingly_ anyway," he winked at Íþró who shuffled in his seat, "...so I needed to find out how they were mind controlling the elves from figuring out that something was wrong."

He looked over to Robbie, lowering his voice.

"I mean… I know elves are dumb but like, they couldn't all be _that_ dumb, y'know?"

Robbie nodded in agreement.

"Hey!" Íþróttaálfurinn protested.

" _Anyway_ …" Glanni continued, ignoring the elf, "they gave me a couple of ideas, things to look out for and I made my way to the elf lands-"

"Yes, how exactly _did_ you get there?" Íþróttaálfurinn demanded. "It shouldn't be possible for you to just _walk in_!"

Glanni smirked. "Let's just say that I got there." He took another giant spoonful of cake triumphantly, chewing it for longer than was necessary.

"By the time I arrived," he continued once he'd swallowed, "they were already erecting the structures in the flowery bit. And that, actually, is the point. It was the flowers. The changelings on the council only ever met people in that white tree thing, meaning they had to pass through the garden to get there. There were some decidedly non-native species planted amongst your delicate elven posies. They excreted some sort of magical numbing glitter into the air which prevented everyone from sensing that anything was... off."

The fae took another mouthful, not bothering to swallow before he continued.

"So naturally, I took great delight in…" he swallowed, " _beheading_ every single fucking flower that I came across."

He grinned at Íþró, batting his eyelashes. "Just like old times."

"But that alone wouldn't be enough…" he continued, "I had, let's say, 'acquired' a sort of magical 'snap out of it', a refocusing spell that I hoped might do the trick once the flowers were no longer there to reinforce the message. That's what I was doing when you lot turned up - sneaking around picking off the last of them, trying not to get noticed by any of the nosey elves in the crowd. And then… well you know the rest."

Sportacus noticed Robbie's hand float up to his throat and so rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder gently.

"Actually no," Íþróttaálfurinn interjected, "What happened after the… _refocusing spell_ went off?"

Glanni rolled his eyes.

"Well…" he drawled, "You lot made your escape whilst the crowd of elves beheld for the first time that the majority of their leaders were nasty, slimy, sneaky changelings-"

"Don't be rude!" Íþró scolded.

"Oh darling, I mean it entirely as a compliment I assure you." Glanni grinned mischievously, "So, as you can imagine, they were a little bit _upset_ about this and it all got a little bit messy for a while. I kept out of it of course, unlike the... other one."

He made a gesture which implied 'pointy ears'.

"Íþrótt? Number Three?" Sportacus asked.

"Yeah him. He got right involved I can tell you."

Sportacus frowned. Glanni had a way of embellishing a story in a way that still left you unsure of what actually happened. Having said that he, like all the academy cadets, had heard stories of Íþrótt's time spent in Lazy Town and supposed that it wasn't exactly out of character for the old Hero.

Glanni continued, gesticulating lazily to emphasise his words.

"So there was a bit of a scuffle, but some more guards came and broke it up. I didn't see what happened to the changelings though. And that was that. Íþrótt went to talk with the remaining _real_ council elves in the white tree and everyone else went home to their cosy mud huts - or wherever it is you crazy nature plonkers nest."

Glanni paused.

"I did manage to speak to him briefly before I left. He said to tell you to lie low until he contacts you, that he's going to 'smooth things over' and to fully take advantage of all the wonderfully perverted experiences on offer here at the world famous Glæpur Glamping resort!"

Sportacus coughed in surprise, feeling his face flush. His brother was also going red.

Glanni laughed, "Okay I added that last bit." he winked at Íþró, "What ya gonna do about it?"

Íþróttaálfurinn growled, "I'll tell you exactly what I'm going to do about it-"

Sportacus coughed again, the blush rising higher up into his ears.

Íþró looked round, startled, looking embarrassed. 

Glanni clapped gleefully. "Well I'd say that's the end of the meeting. He grabbed Íþró's hand, pulling him up off the sofa. "Shall we retire to sixty nine my sweet?"

Robbie laughed. The mortified elves didn’t.

"That's the… chalet number…" Íþróttaálfurinn clarified hastily, looking at the floor.

The two fae burst into giggles.

"Oh aren't they just so cute brother?" Glanni asked as an aside to Robbie. "Elves, who'd've thought it!"

Glanni pushed Íþróttaálfurinn towards the door, smacking him on the arse as he passed by.

"Delightful." Robbie agreed, turning to give his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek. "I wouldn't change him for all the world."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	28. Breakfast At Glanni's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glanni and Ithro spend some quality time together before meeting Sport and Robbie for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahoy!

The esteemed owner of Glæpur Glamping opened the door to his personal chalet and ushered his own special elf, through it.

“The problem as I see it…” He continued, having talked the entirety of the short walk over, “is not with the flying helmet or the egg whisk, but the wet celery.”

Íþróttaálfurinn groaned. “Glanni please, do you never stop talking?”

The fae grinned, “Oh come on. You love me really!”

“Don’t be so sure about that…” the elf muttered under his breath.

Glanni’s stomach flipped. “Wait,” he said seriously, “you do… love me… don’t you?”

He knew as a couple they had their problems, and their courtship hadn’t exactly run smoothly but Glanni had assumed, had always assumed, that the Eighth Hero had loved him for as long as he had loved the elf - which was a long time.

Íþró turned to look him in the eye, a questioning expression across his face.

“Well,” he said uncomfortably, “I… as much as I tried to resist you… yes, I love you.”

Glanni breathed a sigh of relief, he always hated touchy feely conversations but sometimes he had to concede they were necessary.

“Do you… love me?” Íþróttaálfurinn asked shyly.

Glanni grabbed the elf’s head and planted a great wet smacker on his lips.

“Oh course I do darling! I don’t just spread my legs for anyone you know… well… I do - but I won’t any more!”

He kissed him again.

“Does that mean,” Íþró wondered, breaking the kiss, “that we are… what?... a couple?... boyfriends?... partners?”

“Honey,” Glanni regarded him witheringly, “that is positively the least sexy way of asking someone out I have ever heard. But yes, we’re boyfriends. Anyway, by elf standards we’re practically engaged aren’t we?”

Íþróttaálfurinn’s eyes widened, and he nodded hesitantly.

“Prude.” Glanni snorted. He hooked two fingers under the collar of the leather breastplate and tugged his _boyfriend_ into the bedroom.

“Just as long as we’re clear that I do not intend to give up thieving, hustling, blackmailing or any other crime that might take my fancy. I’m not going to be some goody little housewife who makes sure his big handsome hero gets his supper and slippers every night when he comes home.”

He smirked, pushing Íþró onto the obscenely large bed.

“Well, not unless you’re into that…” he winked.

“No…” Íþró’s voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat before continuing, “I never expected that you would. How can I catch and reprimand you if you’re sat at home doing nothing?”

Glanni shivered, “Promises, promises...”

“Last time,” the elf began, not quite meeting Glanni’s eyes, “you asked me what I wanted, y’know, to do..?”

“Yes,” Glanni agreed in a silken voice.

“What is… is there anything you would like? Now?”

The fae felt a flutter in his heart and a rush of sentimentality - love, for the awkwardly reclining elf. Whilst he was, by and large, up for anything, there was only one thing he had ever truly wanted, although it made him feel slightly gross to admit it.

“You,” He said, “I just want you, in whatever way you’ll have me.”

A hunger appeared in the elf’s eyes and he pounced, picking Glanni up off the floor and spinning around to slam the two of them into the wall on the opposite side of the room. The fae wrapped his legs around Íþró’s waist, relishing the feeling of strong hands gripping the meaty part of his arse, holding him up.

“Woah there,” He smirked, “Give a gal some warning!”

Íþróttaálfurinn attacked his neck - kissing, licking, biting, claiming him as his own. The thought made Glanni weak at the knees, or it would’ve done, had he been using his knees.

He reached a hand down between his legs, regretfully moving past his own cock in favour of pulling out Íþróttaálfurinn’s from where it had been trapped, tenting in his trousers. The elf bucked into his hand and pressed him harder against the wall, relying on the pressure to keep him aloft as he thrust his hands up Glanni’s knee length, black, handkerchief hemmed skirt.

The fae gasped as the wandering hands pushed the fabric aside and brushed against his sensitive nether regions. As a rule Glanni never wore underwear, except sometimes in the bedroom if a partner enjoyed dressing him up, and today was no exception. Íþró’s explorations found no barrier beyond the voluminous folds of the skirt between him and his prize.

Dry fingers probed at his entrance and Glanni gasped.

“Need lube.” Íþróttaálfurinn grunted.

“Ever the romantic,” Glanni drawled, “hold me up and turn to your right.”

The strong hands returned to his thighs once again and he felt himself pull away from the stability of the wall. Carefully he leaned backwards, arching his spine and reaching out a hand back over his head. The elf shifted his weight back also, counterbalancing as the fae moved.  
Glanni stretched, thanking the stars for his flexibility honed after many years of hiding in crawl spaces and sneaking through air ducts. There were many unexpected pros to being a professional cat burglar.  
With his outstretched hand he grasped, fumbling slightly due to navigating upside down, and curled himself back up triumphantly - a little bottle of lube clasped in his hand.

“Voila!” 

Íþró pressed him back against the wall. “You’re so infuriating.”

Glanni laughed, “It was hot though, wasn’t it.”

“Yeah,” the elf grunted, “I should’ve known you were flexible.”

“There’ll be no position we can’t master, between the two of us.” Glanni’s mind filled with the possibilities, and he made a mental note to introduce his boyfriend to the Glæpur Glamping ‘Gymnasium’ as soon as possible. Perhaps he should cook up a little ‘personal trainer’ game for them to play there.

The fae was pulled from his daydreams by a slick finger circling his entrance.

Glanni moaned. “Don’t tease me daddy, I can take it!”

The fingers pulled away. Íþróttaálfurinn looked him dead in the eye.

“I hate you.” He said, the corner of his mouth twitching, betraying his serious expression.

“Too much? Fine. But stop being such a tease lover boy.”

Two fingers pushed into him, fucking him in and out without a pause for adjustment. He wriggled, best as he could pressed against the wall.

“Yes!” He cried, “More!”

“You’re an insufferable brat.” Íþró said, smirking. “You’re very lucky that I love you.”

Glanni ground down onto his fingers. “I’d love you more if you put your dick in me.”

Íþróttaálfurinn growled. “Be careful what you wish for.”

The fingers pulled out of him and Glanni moaned - feeling empty, which he both loved and hated simultaneously. He didn’t have to wait long, however, before the blunt head of his boyfriend’s erection was pressing into him instead.

He sighed contentedly as the girth stretched him open, gravity helping to guide him down. It felt delicious to be so full, and it tingled up him to be reminded that this, technically, was _lovemaking_. They were _making love_ , he and his _boyfriend_ , up against the wall of his sex chalet. Not a bad life, he mused.

Once again his thoughts were interrupted as Íþróttaálfurinn adjusted his position, gripping Glanni’s arse cheeks to hold him apart as well as supporting his weight, and began thrusting in earnest. It was a sensationally bumpy ride, with his back sliding up against the wall with every upward thrust and his dick rubbing up against the polished leather breastplate each time he sank down again. The whole symphony of sensations was maddening, and wonderful.

He cried out with every thrust, vocalising to show his lover his appreciation although it wasn’t long before the noises slipped out of him effortlessly and he became lost to the pleasure of the moment.

“By the… _stars_ … you feel good.” Íþróttaálfurinn groaned into his neck, “Mine. My Glanni, I…”

He cried breathlessly, thrusts growing more frantic.

“...I… _love_ … love you!”

The elf came, shooting a warm stickiness inside Glanni. Both the sensation of it and Íþró’s words as he’d cum, sent Glanni over the edge and he came with a cry, squirting all up the hero’s distinctive uniform.

He rested his head back against the wall.

“Magnificent.” He breathed. “You are… simply magnificent.”

The elf blushed and carefully pulled out of him, lowering him to the ground with his immovably strong arms. Glanni wrapped his arms around the hero’s neck and kissed him deeply.

“How long before you’re ready for round two?”

Íþróttaálfurinn raised an eyebrow. “Of course you wouldn’t be satisfied with _just one_ orgasm, silly me.”

“Of course not.” Glanni smirked, “Eight is a much better Number!”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Early the next morning a hurried knocking interrupted Sportacus and Robbie while they were breakfasting on the terrace. The elf pulled the silken blue dressing gown tighter around him and popped his head round the corner of the chalet to see who was at their front door.

Íþró, fully dressed in his hero attire, stood on the decking whilst a dishevelled looking Glanni, wearing a flamboyant gold edged house coat, silk trousers and a gold head wrap but with only half a face of make-up completed, trudged up the path a few steps behind him.

"Íþró! Glanni!" He called, "Come round, we're on the terrace!"

The yellow Hero flipped over the railing and ran round to the back of the building, somersaulting over to their modestly laden breakfast table. After a moment Glanni appeared with a pop next to where Robbie was sitting and slumped down in a chair, looking grumpy.

"It's too bloody early for this shit." He grumbled, "I'm not even dressed yet."

The elegantly pyjama'd fae pulled out a makeup bag from inside one of the voluminous sleeves and set about blending the next layer of eyeshadow, making a point of ignoring his companions. 

Íþróttaálfurinn waved a crumpled note in his hand which, on closer inspection, appeared to have once been a green paper aeroplane. 

"This just arrived. It's from Number Three!"

Sportacus took the offered paper and smoothed it out to read.

"Number Eight," he read, "The elf lands are in uproar but I have explained things to the Council. You, Sportacus and Robbie are safe to return home should you wish it. There's a lot to sort out here but I will aim to meet with you all in Lazy Town as soon as it is feasible for me to do so. Regards, Number Three."

He looked up to Íþró. "Well that is good news!"

"Finally!" Robbie exclaimed, "Not that it isn't _nice_ here but I miss my lair."

"There's no mention of you being reinstated," Íþróttaálfurinn remarked sadly, "if you go back it will be as a civilian."

Sportacus twirled his moustache around his finger thoughtfully.

"To tell the truth Íþró I have slightly lost faith in the system. I think, perhaps, it wouldn't be so bad to just live in Lazy Town. As long as I can play with the kids and keep seeing Robbie, I don't need to have a Number to do that."

Íþróttaálfurinn's eyes widened, "You would give up being a Hero? You would be _happy_?"

"Being a hero isn't about wearing a Number or having a title, it's what you do that matters." Sportacus said, "As long as I can teach kids to make healthy choices and play sports, I will be happy!"

His brother shook his head in disbelief. Emerging from behind his compact mirror, Glanni made an exasperated noise.

"Really? All of this and it comes down to 'what it means to be a hero'!?" He made air quotes with his fingers sarcastically.  
"I'll save you some time and another catastrophic misunderstanding. You," he pointed to Sportacus, "just want to live your best life in a gay little village somewhere, handing out moral life lessons as though they were sweets. And you," he rounded the finger on Íþróttaálfurinn, "find more meaning in the institution you work for rather than the work that you do. You'll rise through the ranks, doing what's expected and keeping your nose clean and everyone will be jealous of the drop dead gorgeous fae on your arm at every awards ceremony. And _neither of those things_ ," he fixed both of them with a pointed stare, "are inherently more or less _heroic_ than the other. You're both ridiculous!"

The fae flung his arms up in exasperation before turning to Robbie.

"Maybe we should just kidnap them now and keep them in some cosy basement somewhere until we've fucked enough sense into them."

Robbie shrugged, "I mean, my bunker could probably fit four if we extended it a little…"

Íþróttaálfurinn spluttered, "Glanni I-" 

The fae calmly returned to his makeup kit, applying a sweeping stroke of black eyeliner.   
"When are you two leaving? Rikki wants to have this chalet available to rent again. I can lend you a car if you need it."

Sportacus looked at him confusedly. "I thought you were Rikki?"

Glanni looked at him as though he'd just asked for help adding two and two together, while Robbie hid his face in his hands.

"Elves…" he took a deep breath and then looked back up at Glanni.  
"Thank you brother, a car would be useful."

Sportacus turned to where Íþró was standing, sensing he might not get much sympathy from either of the fae with his current predicament.

"Íþró, I don't have any clothes except half of my uniform. What will I wear back to Lazy Town?"

As predicted the fae both smirked but Íþróttaálfurinn thought for a moment seriously.

"I shall find you some, and some other essentials. I presume that you won't be homeless, that you'll be staying with him." He pointed at Robbie.

The younger fae grinned.

"Oh, most certainly."

"Fine," the yellow clad elf nodded, "I shall gather some things and drop them off to you this afternoon."

"Wonderful!" said Glanni getting to his feet, his face now immaculately decorated, "I shall have Rikki…" he looked pointedly at Sportacus, "tell the front desk that this unit will be available from tomorrow."

He minced down the steps, cape-like house coat billowing behind him.

"Elf, heel!" he shouted back, clicking his fingers.

Íþróttaálfurinn rolled his eyes but followed Glanni down the steps and away in the direction of the main building.

"He's got your brother trained already!" Robbie remarked with a smirk, "You okay there love?"

Sportacus smiled and reached out to take the hand of his lover. "Yes Robbie, I'm just excited to be going home."

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first. Anyone spot the 'Allo 'Allo reference? ;p
> 
> So fun story about this chapter. I did not intend for any daddy kink to be in this story. I do not like daddy kink. But Glanni called Ithro daddy and then I had an existential crisis for half an hour wondering whether or not to take it out or leave it in. I decided eventually that Glanni knows best, but Ithro had just enough sense to shut him down. I am sorry for everything.
> 
> lol hope you enjoyed ;)


	29. Returning Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie and Sportacus return to Lazytown

Robbie turned off the main road onto the first of the winding lanes that would take them home to Lazy Town. Beside him, looking slightly out of place in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, Sportacus drummed his fingers on the door handle and bounced his knee.  
They'd already had to stop twice so the elf could let out his nervous energy with a quick frolic through the fields. Robbie was considering knocking him out with sugar just to get through the rest of the journey in peace! This was absolutely the last time he would ever travel long distance with an elf in a car.   
But, they were nearly home now. 

Sportacus was actually vibrating with anticipation by the time the curved rooftops came into view on the horizon. Lazy Town looked just as it had always done, the only exception being the twisted metal carcass of what Robbie supposed was the remains of the airship he'd blown up lying in a field on the outskirts. He winced at the sight. His boyfriend would probably insist that it would be their responsibility to clear it up.

Robbie was still contemplating the potential horrors of lugging huge lumps of scrap metal around when he pulled up outside of his billboard.   
Sportacus was up and out of the car the moment it had stopped moving and bounced on the spot, waiting for Robbie.

The fae clambered out of the car and stretched his aching limbs in a languish manner.   
"Go on then," he prompted, "I'll catch you up."

"Thanks Robbie!" 

The elf ran off as though he'd been blasted out of a cannon in the direction of the town square. Robbie watched his retreating form, appreciating the way the wind rippled through his golden hair as he ran. He opened the boot of the car, took one look at the pile of bags inside it, and shut the lid again. Sportacus could lug everything downstairs later, he'd probably even enjoy it!

Rolling his stiff neck in the warm evening sunlight, Robbie set off into town following, roughly, the path that his lover had taken. Although he was loath to admit it, he had missed the kids too. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Stephanie was overseeing the finishing touches to the front garden of the house they had been renovating for their beloved hero. It hadn't exactly been a smooth project at first, but once they'd all put their heads together and had sung a few catchy working songs to see them through, everything had seemed to just slot into place.  
The only thing left was the choice of which flowers to plant in the borders by the front fence. Her Uncle had taken them all on a trip to the neighbouring town to Jives' Garden centre and they'd come home laden with every plant they'd been able to carry. Most of them had been requisitioned by Stingy for his hanging baskets and decorative tubs round the back, but there were certainly enough left to fill out the space she had here.

"Stephanie!"

A familiar voice called out to her from some distance away and she looked up to see…

"Sportacus!" She jumped up excitedly and called into the house. "Hey guys, Sportacus is back!"

She waved wildly to the approaching figure as the rest of the kids assembled from the various different parts of the house, all jumping and shouting with excitement.  
The approaching hero slowed to a jog as he approached, and came to a stop in front of the gaggle of children. Stephanie threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. The small wince didn't escape her and she let go immediately.

A nasal voice rang out from the group. "What _are_ you wearing!?"

"Yeah!" Trixie's voice joined Stingy's, "And what's up with your ears?!"

Sportacus looked slightly panicked for a second, raising a hand to his bare head, before fixing his features. Stephanie regarded him with a critical eye.  
He was wearing everyday clothes, actually for the first time as she could remember and his ears and hair were visible for the first time as well. His hair, surprisingly, was blond on the top and gently wavy. The tips of his ears, it was hard to ignore, were unmistakably pointed.

The hero laughed merrily, "I'm so excited to see you kids again! I've missed you!"

Stephanie jumped in quickly, eager to discuss the house.  
"We missed you too Sportacus-" 

Pixel interrupted her before she could finish.   
"Where did you go?" 

Sportacus smiled sadly.   
"I had to go home for a little while." It wasn’t a lie, he thought. 

“To see your family?” Pixel asked. 

“Did Robbie go with you?” Trixie quickly interjected. 

“Did you take Robbie to meet your family?” Stingy followed up. 

Sportacus laughed. "Something like that."

Stephanie regarded him thoughtfully. She had always loved reading about the world, about all the different cultures and places that existed, and in all her reading there was only ever one people who were said to have pointed ears - elves, a hidden, magical race. Most people didn't even believe they existed. 

She reasoned that if Sportacus _were_ an elf, he might be quite shy about it and so she resolved to give him back the choice.

"Hey Sportacus!" She ducked inside the house, fetching something from where it was hanging on a peg in the hallway.   
"We found your hat and fixed it up for you! Bessie helped us with the sewing, it's almost as good as new!"

She held the distinctive blue hat out to him proudly - it was missing the goggles and one or two areas were still a little singed, but overall it wasn't bad.  
The elf, she suspected, reached out to take the garment with a beaming smile, but didn't put it on.

"Wow!" He exclaimed, "This is fantastic! That was a very kind thing to do, thank you!"

"Are you gonna put it on Sportacus, huh? Are you?" Ziggy asked, bouncing on the spot.

Sportacus's face fell. "There's something I have to tell you guys."

Stephanie thought that he looked sad.

"You see, I'm afraid I'm not a Hero anymore."

"You're not a superhero?" Ziggy said in disbelief.

"Is it because you were sick?" Stephanie asked, "Did you have to give it up because you weren't well?"

Sportacus shook his head, looking slightly appalled. "No it's nothing like that. I'm still going to stay here with you guys, the only thing that will be different is that I don't have my crystal anymore so I won't know if anyone is needing my help. But I can still play sports and teach you cool moves and lots of things!"

The other kids seemed heartened by this news but Stephanie suspected they weren't getting the whole truth. She was also old enough to know how young most adults thought she was and was used to having secrets kept from her.

"Well I'm just glad you're back!" She stated, knowing that patience was the greatest weapon in her arsenal when it came to coaxing secrets out of grown-ups. And it looked as though Sportacus had a lot of interesting secrets.

"Hey! Noisy children!" Another familiar voice called out to them.

"Robbie!" Stephanie exclaimed. Now there was an idea, Robbie was much more talkative than his heroic counterpart.

"Robbie! Sportacus said he took you to meet his family!" Trixie stated with a grin.

"Oh he did, did he?" The tall villain raised an eyebrow.

Stephanie saw Sportacus flush slightly and shoot an emotive glance toward Robbie.

"I didn't quite say that-" 

"Ha!" The villain interrupted, "He's boasting already about how perfectly his very clever, extremely handsome boyfriend made an excellent first impression with his grumpy nuisance of a brother."

Sportacus shot daggers at Robbie, but Stephanie was amused to note how the taller man pretended not to notice.

Stingy gasped, "Boyfriend?"

Robbie captured Sportacus's hand and held it openly in front of them.

"Yes. We love each other very much."

The kids all lost their minds, jumping and whooping and shouting their congratulations, and Stephanie was no exception. Sportacus blushed, moving closer to Robbie.

"This is _fantastic_!" Stephanie exclaimed, "Sportacus, we had a surprise for you but now it can be for _both_ of you!"

"Yeah! Can we show you, please Sportacus, please can we show you!"

Sportacus laughed, "Sure Ziggy! Shall I hold out my hands?"

"It won't fit in your hands!" Stingy exclaimed, vibrating with excitement.

"Look!" Stephanie bounded over to the front door of the house they'd been working on.   
"We made a home for you to live in, in case you came back because you lost your last one. Now you can live there together!"

Sportacus and Robbie moved forward together, hand in hand, peering into the brightly painted hallway.

"We couldn't agree on the colours so the Mayor suggested we use all of them!" Pixel declared brightly.

"The master bedroom and downstairs bathroom are mine!" Stingy said proudly, "And I did all the flowers in the garden too."

"And I did the guest bedroom and the vegetable garden!" Ziggy chimed in. 

"Yeah and Trixie did the kitchen, and Pixel did the living room and I did the main bathroom!" Stephanie added excitedly. "And my Uncle got special people to come in to check all the electrics and the water and stuff! It's all finished and you can move in straight away!"

She noticed tears welling up in Sportacus's eyes and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion.

"Wow. I don't know what to say. _Thank you_ , guys this is, this is incredible!"

Sportacus wiped a tear away from his eye and wrapped an arm around Robbie's waist. Stephanie thought that they fitted together like puzzle pieces, specially made to come together perfectly. The sight of the two of them made her heart dance.

"A house…" Sportacus sounded a little dazed. "I have a house Robbie…"

"Don't count your chickens until you've seen the place." Robbie warned, "I bet you're going to discover why children aren't normally employed as interior designers."

"Can we show you round Sportacus huh? Can we please?!" Ziggy bounced through the front door excitedly. 

"I want to show them _my_ rooms!" Stingy followed quickly.

"Oh yes, I can't wait for the tour!" Sportacus bounded in after them, dragging Robbie with him.

Stephanie giggled, following the group into the house. Seeing Sportacus's face had made the whole project worth it.

  
  



	30. Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus and Robbie move into their new house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the smut train - woo woo!

Everything about the house had been perfect and Sportacus was delighted. Every room was bursting with colour and individuality and reminded him of each one of the children. It was like he had fallen into one of their paintings.  
The thought that they had spent their spare time so selflessly to help him filled his heart with love. These children were the real heroes and, he was sure, would go far in life.

Robbie was less keen. 

“It’s just so… _happy_!” He exclaimed once they’d extracted themselves from the excitable children. “Too many bright colours everywhere, it’s enough to give me a headache!”

“So you don’t want to move in with me then?” Sportacus asked. 

“I didn’t say that.” The fae stopped in his tracks. “I just… don’t see why it can’t be… less… _everything_.”

“Pixel’s living room is pretty dark. He painted all the walls black for the big television system.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Robbie sulked. 

Sportacus linked his arm around his boyfriend’s as they walked. 

“It was a lovely gesture from the kids wasn't it.”

The fae seemed to wrestle with himself inwardly before replying. 

“Yeah,” he agreed begrudgingly, “yeah it was pretty nice I guess.” He paused. “I suppose you won’t let me redecorate _our_ house so as not to upset them?”

Sportacus grinned. “Maybe not straight away.”   
The elf span on the spot in happiness. He and Robbie were going to live together! Without thinking he launched into a run of backflips along the street. They would be a couple! A proper couple who could make each other breakfast in bed, and share baths and cook together. 

“Hey! I haven’t cleared you for backflipping Mister!”

Robbie’s shout brought him back to reality and he noted with a twinge of guilt how his muscles were protesting slightly after the last fortnight of enforced rest. 

“Sorry Robbie! I’m just so happy that we’re going to live together in a proper house!”

The fae grabbed his arm and linked it with his again and Sportacus felt rather as though he were being escorted away from any potential flipping spots. 

“Well you’re staying in my bunker tonight regardless. We haven’t even unpacked the car, let alone got ourselves organised for a move. It’ll have to wait for tomorrow. I’m not having an overtired elf making important decisions like where to keep the cake ingredients!”

“Okay Robbie.” Sportacus leaned his head on the fae’s shoulder as they walked.   
“Will you mind not living in your lair? Will you miss it?”

Robbie considered, “Oh I’ll still be spending plenty of time in my lair, don’t you worry. After all, dastardly schemes don’t plan themselves! And you’ll be moving my chair into our house so I won’t miss that!”

Sportacus laughed, growing sleepier by the minute. He yawned as they rounded the billboard. Moonlight glinted off the shiny black car that Glanni had lent them. 

One after the other they dropped down into Robbie’s lair and headed straight for the bedroom. Sportacus, certainly, was pretty exhausted after all of the excitement of the day, and he guessed that Robbie was too after his long drive. 

It wasn’t long before they were both curled up together in the large bed, sound asleep. 

* * *

The next morning it was all steam ahead for the big move in. Sportacus didn’t have many possessions, having lost most of the few he did have in the airship explosion. Robbie on the other hand, was fussing over every tiny screwdriver in his bunker. 

“But what if I _need_ my Invisibilitaser 4000?”

“Then you can come and get it. You’re still going to be living in Lazy Town! It’s less than a five minute walk between here and there!”

In the end Sportacus managed to talk Robbie down to three large bags of clothes and possessions, and the orange armchair which he promised to move later that day. That, plus the bags they rescued from the boot of the car, made for a couple of trips back and forth. 

Unpacking at the other end was harder, as the space was still new and unfamiliar to them. Decisions about which drawer to keep things in or which room would be best for that were made hesitantly by both parties.   
Robbie had insisted upon claiming the whole of the wardrobe until Sportacus had pointed out that he’d left all his disguises in the tubes at the bunker and so had as few clothes as the elf himself. 

“Looks like we’ll need to do a clothing shopping trip then!”   
Robbie declared triumphantly, “As much as I appreciate the tight t-shirt look - boy I can’t wait until it rains, you have to have other things to wear.” 

“I don’t really know anything about clothes!” Sportacus laughed, “Ever since I joined the Academy I’ve just worn a uniform the whole time!”

Robbie crossed the master bedroom to where Sportacus was arranging things in a chest of drawers and caressed down from his waist to his hips. 

“You would be an excellent canvas…” he drawled, grasping the hem of the elf’s t-shirt and pulling it up over his head, “I would have fun dressing you… making you look pretty…”

Sportacus blushed, putting his hands on his hips.   
“Yeah? What would you get for me to wear?”

Robbie twirled a finger around an imaginary moustache.   
“It would depend on the occasion. If you were exercising I could get you very tiny gold shorts that would barely cover your arse and would say ‘sportscandy’ across the bum. If you were going to a very swanky party I might get you a long velvet dress with a very low neckline and decorate your neck with diamonds. And if…” he trailed his fingers down Sportacus’s bare chest, “... you were here with me, alone, in this bedroom, I would get you some little lacy panties that you would barely fit into, and stockings held up by a garter belt and some very high heels…”

Sportacus’s breath hitched as Robbie’s fingers ghosted over his nipple. 

“You would like that? To dress me up like a doll?” He purred. 

Robbie circled round Sportacus, and when he emerged back round to the front he was naked. 

“Oh yes…” the fae tangled his fingers into Sportacus’s belt loops and tugged him along towards the bed.   
“But seeing as you’re lacking in clothing choices right now, I think you should be naked.”

The elf smiled, feeling a tingle spreading across his whole body from where Robbie’s fingertips were brushing against the bare skin over his hips.   
Slowly, wanting to make a show of it, he pushed the waistband of his jeans slowly down over the curve of his arse and down his muscular thighs until they pooled around his ankles.  
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Robbie was looking up at him hungrily.

"Robbie, I've been thinking…" Sportacus started.

The fae raised an eyebrow, "Is now really the time Sportahoney? When we're both naked?"

The elf rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the right words.  
"I have a lot of… marks- scars all over me now that I didn't have before. I don't want for them always to be bad memories… I was thinking you could make me some new memories for them?"

A soft expression fell over the fae's face - he looked touched.

Sportacus continued, "And I thought, what better occasion than our first time in our new house? I will always want to be reminded of this moment forever."

"Yeah…" Robbie said after a beat, his voice croaking with emotion, "yeah I could do that."

Sportacus launched himself onto his boyfriend, kissing him hungrily and grinding against him. Suddenly there was the sensation of ten long fingernails being dragged down his back. Each time a nail crossed one of the intersecting lines a jolt of fiery intensity shot through him, but each quickly dissipated. The skin of his back bloomed under each touch, oversensitive from the healing process, and it was as though the fading pain of the scars was melting away as Robbie reclaimed him for his own.

Robbie flipped their positions suddenly and Sportacus found himself lying properly on his back for the first time in a while. The fae threw a leg over him and shuffled back so he was settled with his weight resting on Sportacus's thighs.   
Robbie captured Sportacus's wrists in each of his large hands and carefully raised one to his lips. Without ever breaking eye contact, the fae slowly and deliberately sucked a love bite onto the pulse point on the underside of each of the elf's wrists, directly over the thick red scars left by the iron manacles.

Emotions overwhelmed the Sports Elf, seeing his boyfriend overwriting the horrors of his recent past with his unconditional love. He knew in his heart, because he could feel it pulsing through him, that he and Robbie, together, would be unbreakable.

The fae eventually released his happily bruising wrists and scooted back so he could take Sportacus's hardness into his mouth. The elf groaned as the hot, wetness engulfed him, and a flexible tongue swirled around the sensitive tip.  
He bucked up into the sensation and felt they fae's hands pressing down on his hips in response - a silent warning to keep still and be patient. Sportacus whined but concentrated hard on keeping his hips still while Robbie sucked and swallowed around him.

Just as he felt the crescendoing tightness rising up inside him, Robbie pulled off. The elf let out a desperate, questioning noise at the loss.

"I don't _have_ to fuck you princess…" Robbie threatened and Sportacus shook his head vigorously.

"You want that?" Robbie teased, Sportacus switched to nodding. "You surprise me Sportaslut - turn over."

There was a scramble as Sportacus rolled over and pushed up onto all fours, feeling his boyfriend settling between his spread calves. There was a click, then a squelch and then the feeling of slick fingers probing at his entrance.  
He couldn't focus properly on the intruding digits however, as Robbie had chosen this moment to lick a long stripe up the length of one of the healing lash marks crossing his back.

As the fingers began gently scissoring inside him the fae picked another scar running in the opposite direction and licked along that one too. Sportacus shivered, touched as much by the gesture as he was pleasured by the touches.

Time stopped for the elf as his lover took his time to lick along the length of each of the thirty lines criss-crossing his back all the while slowly, torturously, stretching him open. He purred contentedly, savouring the moment. His dick ached between his legs, hanging heavily, desperate for touch but he relished the lack of it, wanting the experience to last.

Robbie finished his ministrations with a flourish - a kiss placed onto Sportacus's shoulder blade, and pulled out his fingers. The elf didn't have to suffer emptiness for long, however, as soon the familiar shape of Robbie's erection was nudging at his entrance.  
He felt himself stretching even further as Robbie pushed into him, moaning at the dull sting that came with accepting his boyfriend's girth. It was a feeling he'd never grow tired of as long as he lived, he thought to himself.

Unconscious declarations of love suddenly came tumbling from Robbie's mouth as he began thrusting slowly and deeply, clinging on to Sportacus's hips for balance. They rocked together, moaning around breathless "I love you's", the elf purring in pleasure sending deep vibrations back up into the fae. It was a moment of pure bliss.

But it couldn't last forever. They came together, shouting through their climaxes before collapsing together in a heap in the bed.

"Good enough memory for you?" Robbie asked, panting.

"Thank you Robbie," Sportacus smiled, "that was perfect."

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg so close to the end! I can't believe we've come this far. I'm hoping to get the last chapters uploaded before Christmas, but I can't promise that I will. It'll either be just before Christmas, or just afterwards.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading about the boys' new house. I can almost picture a Lazytown episode where the kids decorate the place XD


	31. Three Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang reunite in Lazytown

In the end it was close to two weeks later before Lazy Town's hottest new couple heard anything further from Number Three.

Their time had been spent profitably, shopping for various essentials and a few more changes of clothes. Stephanie had bought Sportacus a tight fitting beanie hat and had helped him adjust it so it covered his ears but left his fringe sticking out of the front. Robbie had laughed harder than Sportacus had ever seen him laugh before, and had called him a skater boy.   
By now most of the town had seen his ears, and the children all knew that he was an elf but he found that he didn’t mind. It was still nice to wear the hat sometimes, though, as he still felt slightly too exposed without it. His old, blue uniform hat that the children had so lovingly mended hung proudly on the first peg by the front door, and after a few days he noticed that he was touching it every time he entered or left the house. It seemed he had developed a new good luck ritual. 

There were plenty of things that needed doing around the house, although technically it was habitable.   
Robbie’s orange chair had been pushed into the dark living room and they’d argued for several hours about where exactly it should be placed. It currently rested against the back wall, facing the giant television but Sportacus suspected that was still subject to change. 

The bathroom shelf where they kept their toothbrushes had been detached from the wall and moved away from the window at Robbie’s insistence after he’d witnessed the elf throwing his toothbrush out of the window and into the garden on three consecutive evenings. 

“Until you learn to place your toothbrush back in the cup gently with your hands the shelf is going to have to move.” The fae had said, exasperatedly on the third occasion. 

Such as it was, the shelf was now over the toilet which was probably worse, but luckily Robbie hadn’t yet noticed that Sportacus was sneaking toothbrushes into their shopping trolley on every trip to the out of town supermarket.

Sportacus had begun exercising daily again as well! Robbie had declared the wounds on his back healed enough for light stretching and aerobics and Sportacus had jumped at the opportunity to get out and moving properly again. ~After a few days of gradually building up cautiously, Sportacus had come to the conclusion that his boyfriend was being overprotective. The kids were delighted the first time they saw him flip towards them and walk along a low wall on his hands. Since then there had been nonstop requests for basketball, football and all manner of games and Sportacus had indulged them all joyfully. 

Things were almost back to normal in Lazy Town. 

Sportacus liked to spend the last hour of twilight every day tending to the small vegetable patch at the bottom of his and Robbie’s new garden.   
Ziggy had planted plenty of seeds throughout it but they needed daily care, and a touch of elf magic to encourage them along didn’t hurt either. 

It was while Sportacus was tending to the sprouting vegetable seedlings one evening that the green paper aeroplane landed in front of him, sticking its nose into the soil. 

He unfolded it hastily and began to read. 

_Sportacus,_

_Number Eight, Mr Glæpur and I will be arriving in Lazy Town tomorrow lunchtime._

_Regards,_

_Number Three_

It was short and to the point, just like Íþrótt. 

Sportacus put away his trowel and dusted the soil off his knees before skipping into the house to tell Robbie. 

Looks like they were going to have to prepare for their first official visitors. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Just as the sun was reaching the apex of its arc the next day, the kids spotted two balloons on the horizon. They ran to the colourful house as fast as they could to tell Sportacus and Robbie the news.   
Together they all gathered to watch the two balloons touch down in the town square and saw Íþrótt emerge from one, and Íþróttaálfurinn and Glanni disembark from the other. 

The two elves wore their same, distinctive uniforms but Glanni was resplendent in a chic black and pink number complete with large, floppy sun hat and sunglasses. It was these sunglasses that Glanni removed delicately, looking around.

“What a charming little backwater hovel you live beneath brother! It hasn't changed one bit.”   
The fae drew out each syllable as long as possible.   
“It’s quaint… sort of like a soft play pen for a sports elf - which I suppose is probably the point.”

He strode forward to embrace Robbie, kissing the air either side of his cheeks. 

“Is this your brother Robbie?” Ziggy asked the tallest fae, clawing at his distinctive striped outfit. 

“He’s so…” Stingy trailed off, gazing up at Glanni with a reverent expression. 

“Oh no!” Robbie exclaimed, Glanni wasn’t exactly child friendly most of the time. “Brats away! Home time, bye bye!”

He shooed the kids away. Sportacus helped, casting furtive glances back to the older fae who had begun blowing kisses to the three elves.  
Once the children had been safely lured indoors, the five magical beings congregated in the centre of the square, between the two balloons.

"I suggest we take this meeting somewhere private." Íþrótt started, eyes scanning the empty curved streets for signs of movement.

"You're all most welcome to our house." Sportacus offered, "We've prepared for visitors."

Íþrótt nodded.

"You have a house?" Íþróttaálfurinn asked as the group began moving off.

"Together! How romantic!" Glanni was practically skipping for joy, "my brother - domestic!"  
He linked arms with Íþróttaálfurinn. "Maybe we should get a house?"

The oldest elf snorted, "You don't want a house."

"You're right," Glanni countered in a singsong voice, "you'd feel much more comfortable in a basement, or an abandoned warehouse or-"

"Gentlemen," Íþrótt interrupted, "can we dispense with the suggestive dramatics, please, at least until we’ve finished the debrief?"

"My apologies…" Glanni drawled, "I swear, nothing _suggestive_ shall pass these lips until you're done."  
He mimed drawing a zip across his mouth and locking it with a key. Robbie raised an eyebrow, getting the feeling that this wasn't the end of it, but Íþrótt seemed convinced.

"Well, this is us!" Sportacus announced, stopping the group at his and Robbie's front door.

The only elf to be dressed in what Robbie has quickly come to call 'normal' clothes, pushed the front door open and led the way inside. Robbie noticed his fingers brush over the blue uniform hat on his way past - he'd been doing that a lot lately and he wondered idly if he should ask Sportacus about it.

He brought up the rear, closing the door behind them.

He and Sportacus had discussed the room best suited to hosting visitors and had settled on the kitchen. At least, seated around the kitchen table they'd be able to see each other's faces, unlike in the black living room. The downside, as far as Robbie could see it, was that the kitchen walls were painted in a faux brickwork pattern in bright neon orange and pink.

"Well this is the most hideous thing I've ever seen! Positively vulgar!" Glanni exclaimed with a grin as they entered, "I demand a full tour!"

"After the meeting." Íþrótt said firmly, sitting himself at the head of the table.

They all sat, except for Sportacus who bustled round offering sportscandy to all the elves and fairy cakes to the… well… fairies. Robbie felt his heart flutter - it was so cute that his boyfriend was as house-proud as he was. He'd worried about what to offer the visitors ever since the note had arrived, and had spent most of the morning washing towels 'just in case they stay over'.  
Finally he sat too, between Robbie and Íþróttaálfurinn.

"Gentlemen. Thank you for agreeing to meet." Íþrótt began, "I thought it would only be fitting for me to update you all on current events, given that you helped enlighten the people of the elf lands to the threat they faced."

Robbie groaned inwardly, this number three elf had a terribly pompous way of speaking that made Robbie want to blast him out of a cannon.

"Once they had been revealed, and quite publicly too, the changelings who had been seated upon the Council fled before we could apprehend any of them. It looks as though they had prepared an emergency set of homing spells in case of discovery. So that wasn't ideal but…"

He paused for emphasis.

"...there were enough eyewitnesses to corroborate the story. Seventeen of the thirty four Council members turned out to be changelings, including the chair and the treasurer."

Íþróttaálfurinn let out a low whistle.

"The real council elves were initially quite confused, having been the most exposed to the magical concealer, but it dissipated enough for me to explain to them briefly on that first evening what had happened with Number Ten and our visits which they were able to verify from the official records."

Glanni got up to put his cake wrapper in the bin whilst Íþrótt was talking and upon his return, slid onto Íþróttaálfurinn's lap, eschewing his own chair.

Íþrótt continued, "Over the next few days the Council issued a brief statement to reassure the people and I continued to work closely with them to sort everything out. The Changeling Conglomerate has closed ranks and steadfastly refuses to acknowledge or admit to anything but that's hardly a surprise. The Fairy Court kicked up a bit of a fuss over the unlawful arrest of one of it's own…" he nodded to Robbie, "...but again, mostly they are just perturbed that drama occurred that they weren't involved in."

Glanni chucked and ran his hands over Íþróttaálfurinn's neck and chest, his fingers dipping below the edges of the breastplate.  
"Nothing that a bit of interspecies diplomacy can't fix."

"Indeed." Íþrótt agreed, ignoring Íþróttaálfurinn's reddening face. "And frankly everyone would be a lot more suspicious if the changelings _had_ admitted that they were up to something. The consensus is that it looks like we were lucky enough to foil their plot so entirely that they've been forced to retreat. Obviously we'll keep a lookout but I don’t think we'll have to worry about the Conglomerate for many years to come."

"That is a relief Íþrótt!" Sportacus chimed in enthusiastically.

"Hey! But what about my brother's Number? And his reputation?" Íþróttaálfurinn demanded, ending his sentence in an uncharacteristic little squeak as Glanni wriggled deliberately in his lap.

“Yes I was coming to that.” Íþrótt turned to Sportacus, “The Council has fully exonerated you of any and all charges and has agreed to reinstate your Number, should you want to accept it.”

He paused, glancing at Íþróttaálfurinn who seemed to be desperately trying to concentrate whilst faced with Glanni’s wandering hands. 

“Having said that, it would not surprise me if the Council were to announce changes to the Hero structure system in the coming months, so things might change.”

Sportacus considered, linking his hand with Robbie’s under the table. 

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful to the council Íþrótt, and I’d be very happy to stay being Number Ten forever, but if it comes down to a choice, then I would rather stay in Lazy Town as a civilian than leave it as a Hero.”

Íþróttaálfurinn gasped, although that might have been more to do with wherever Glanni’s hand had disappeared to rather than his little brother’s statement. 

“Well spoken sir.” Íþrótt nodded in approval, “I’m sure they would be more than willing to consider your request. They do feel somewhat in your debt. I shall convey that message to them. In the meantime…”

He plunged a hand into his pocket and rummaged around. 

“... you’d better have this back.”

From the pocket of his green trousers Íþrótt drew a familiar object.   
Sportacus accepted his crystal reverently, turning it over in his hands to check for any imperfections. 

“Thank you Íþrótt,” he said, voice thick with emotion, “I shall guard over Lazy Town until I talk to the Council, I promise.”

“Good. Now I have another matter of diplomacy to discuss if you’ll allow it?”

Number Three leaned forward, regarding the two couples before him. Robbie grew weary of the glint in his eye, suspecting it to herald the arrival of some elvish weirdness he didn’t understand. 

“As you all know things have been a little strained between the elves and the court fairies of late…”

Robbie furrowed his brow suspiciously. At the opposite end of the table Glanni was giving all the appearance of focussing solely on fondling Íþróttaálfurinn’s ears but Robbie could tell that beneath the act he was listening intently. 

“It might be prudent,” Íþrótt continued confidently, “to consider the possibility that a couple of high profile interspecies weddings would be great for elf/fae relations.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from each of the four listeners. 

“After all, a Numbered Hero publically marrying a fae would make quite a statement! Could be quite the occasion!”

“Might even get a trade deal out of it!” Glanni added sarcastically. 

“Yes, very possibly!” Íþrótt agreed, missing the point. “Anyway, just something to think about. Especially as you’re cohabiting already…”

He trailed off, fixing Robbie and Sportacus with a penetrating stare. 

Robbie thought it best to nip this in the bud before Sportacus opened his big elf mouth and signed them up for a diplomatic engagement. 

He cleared his throat. “It’s not, er… something we’ve discussed actually.”

Sportacus smiled up at him gratefully, squeezing his hand under the table. 

“Yes, everything has happened very quickly for us… we will need some time to slow down before we think about marriage.” The blond elf added quickly. 

“Fair enough,” Íþrótt acknowledged, switching his gaze to Íþró and Glanni like a predator before seeming to think better of it. 

“Well, that’s it for me. Does anyone have any other business?” The oldest elf prompted. 

Robbie and Sportacus shook their heads dutifully, Íþróttaálfurinn opened his mouth but then closed it again, and Glanni ignored the question. 

“Well…” Íþrótt continued. “On a personal note I would like to extend my gratitude to you. To each of you.” He stroked his beard into a point and curled the tip of it around his finger. 

“Everyone around this table has made sacrifices and gone beyond the call of duty and it is my privilege to think of you all, now, as friends. Maybe I asked too much of you…”

His eyes flicked to where Sportacus was sitting before sliding over to meet Robbie’s own gaze. 

“But…” he continued, “you’ve made a real difference. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Íþrótt.” Sportacus relied quietly. “Anytime.”

Íþróttaálfurinn nodded sagely.   
“Do not forget your own actions Number Three. You are a hero to heroes.”

“HA” Glanni snorted before covering his mouth, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Íþrótt ignored the fae, smiling to his fellow elves. “Be _all_ you can be.”

Robbie rolled his eyes. This was just typical of elves and yet strangely the tendency for melodramatic speech making was growing on him. 

“Right, well I should be making sail.”   
Number Three rose from his seat. “Thank you for the hospitality Number Ten, Robbie. My best wishes to you both. If you see me to my balloon I brought some fish oil for the children - I worry that they’re too pale.”

Sportacus jumped up and, after Íþrótt had made his goodbyes to everyone, followed him out of the kitchen leaving Robbie alone with his brother and potential future brother in law. 

“We’ll be staying,” Glanni broke the silence smugly, “I want to experience all of this disgusting house!” He grinned. 

“Oh you’re going to _love_ the guest bedroom,” Robbie countered with a wry smile, “it was designed so _earnestly_ by the youngest child in Lazy Town. The word ‘chaotic’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“It sounds delightful.” Íþróttaálfurinn appeased hastily. 

Robbie regarded the hero, feeling warmer towards him than he had ever done before. Now that he and Glanni had sorted their problems the elf seemed a lot less tense. Still, that’s what regular orgasms will do. 

“I dare you to say that again after dinner.” He said, rising from the table. “Sportacus has been experimenting with inclusive cuisine, so that we can both eat the same meal. Apparently he’s planning something extra special for tonight.”

Robbie left the kitchen to double check that the guest bedroom had its allocation of fresh towels, noting with a smirk how Íþróttaálfurinn had paled and Glanni’s dramatic groan at his parting statement. Who said hosting guests couldn’t be fun?

  
  


* * *

That evening, once dinner had been cleared away and the guests shown to their room, Sportacus changed into his pyjamas with a dizzying series of athletic moves. Robbie twirled on the spot into a silken grey number, grumbling about overactive annoying elves. 

They settled into the midnight blue four poster bed as the clock ticked past eight and Sportacus snuggled in, enjoying being cradled in his boyfriend’s arms. 

“Robbie…” he said sleepily, indulging a yawn. 

“Yes?” The fae replied. 

“...do you think we _should_ get married?”

Sportacus could feel Robbie’s heart begin to beat a little faster. After a long pause he replied. 

“My love… if we do choose to get married, it will be because _we_ want it. Not for all the diplomacy in the world.”

Sportacus felt the warm glow inside him grow bigger and he started to purr.

“That sounds good.”

Just then the noise of a loud thump and a cry snapped Sportacus awake. He sat up in bed, Robbie close behind him, and looked to his silent crystal on the bedside table. No one was in trouble..?

Another thump sound vibrated through the wall followed by an unmistakable moan. 

“Great.” Robbie exclaimed, flopping down onto his front and clutching a pillow over his head. “I preferred it when they had a whole separate caravan.”

Sportacus lay back too, trying to ignore the growing symphony of sex noises coming from his brother’s room. 

If someone had told him, a few months ago that he would be here now, in bed with the love of his life Robbie Rotten, in the house that they shared, having just saved the world, he wouldn’t’ve believed them.   
And despite the unpleasant sounds of his brother getting stuck into the notorious Glanni Glæpur next door, he wouldn’t change anything about what had happened for the whole world. 

Sportacus hugged Robbie tighter, smiled, and fell asleep. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line 'you're a hero to heroes, be all you can be' is a reference to a little BBC scifi sitcom called Hyperdrive that I love love love!!!  
> I couldn't resist :p


	32. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later...

It was a year before all five of them congregated in Lazy Town once again. 

Things had been, on a day to day level, pretty similar to before. Sportacus had been reinstated as Number Ten, although it was a much less formal arrangement than it had been - he often wore his own clothes, particularly out of hours, and had only taken the job on the understanding that he would never be asked to leave the place that was now his home. 

Íþrótt, the former Number Three, had been appointed to the Elf Council shortly after his last visit to Lazy Town and had immediately set about undoing all of the changes the changelings had made. He had been the one to secure Sportacus his new position, as well as arranging for him a brand new balloon.   
It was as low tech as it was possible to get, ‘a return to the good old days’ Íþrótt had said, and was the same design as his brother’s, although Sportacus’s was blue. He had installed a hitching post at the bottom of their garden to moor it to, and plans were underway to construct a garage to store it in when it was deflated. 

The house itself hadn’t changed much outwardly over the year but recently Sportacus and Robbie had begun to redecorate some of the more eccentric rooms. A regrettable curry sauce incident had unfortunately rendered the kitchen wall unsalvageable, and whilst repainting the kitchen they’d told the kids it made sense to freshen up a couple of other rooms as well.   
The kids hadn’t minded, happy that their hero had promised to stay forever and knowing that his modification of the house was a reflection of that. 

The kids had grown ever more ambitious in their games, sometimes helping Robbie in his attempts to trap Sportacus and sometimes helping the elf to outsmart them. The focus of the schemes had shifted, instead of trying to run him out of town, Robbie now caught the elf with the excuse of making sure Sportacus was home for dinner on time, or trapping him until he finished folding the laundry.   
As far as evil schemes went, it was all very domestic. 

Sportacus had also kept in regular contact with his brother Íþróttaálfurinn. The AI of the high tech airship communication system had been disabled so they kept in touch via paper aeroplane, but Sportacus valued the closeness they now shared.   
Íþró had accepted a promotion to Number Seven and had moved with Glanni to Liar Town where they had acquired a townhouse in which to live. 

Sportacus had visited for the housewarming party and had been struck by the elegance of the place. Glanni had taken to it like a duck to water, hosting swanky parties and befriending politicians, celebrities and all manner of lofty persons. It seemed that Liar Town suited him, and Íþróttaálfurinn was his trophy. 

Sportacus smiled at the memory. They suited one another- just like he and Robbie did. 

The fae had continued to be quite protective of Sportacus for the first few months since they had returned to Lazy Town but had relaxed once he’d seen how happy and free the elf was.   
Sportacus’s scars had faded gradually over the year. The ones on his back had turned silvery and pale, intersecting in a web across him, a perfect map of the pain of that day.   
The thick red iron burns on his wrists had lightened and blended more with his skin tone, but would be forever noticeable. The children had asked him about them once, but Robbie’s scolding had sent them all scattering and they’d never asked again. 

And Sportacus and Robbie… well, they had their differences, their disagreements, but their love was as strong as ever and growing more so every day.   
He didn’t know how he could ever have lived without him by his side. They were a team, a unit - a couple. 

And now once again they were preparing to play the hosts. 

Sportacus couldn’t remember who had suggested it, but gradually the five of them had come to the understanding in their communications that they would make the effort to meet, once a year, on the anniversary of the changelings being uncovered - ‘The Day of Reconciliation’ as it had become known amongst the elves. 

And finally the day had arrived. Sportacus and Robbie stood, hand in hand on their front step, waving as Glanni and Íþró emerged from a shiny, black limousine and a tattered orange balloon approached in the skies. 

Glanni was resplendent in a luxurious fur coat and designer sunglasses, and even Íþróttaálfurinn was out of uniform, clearly having been dressed in the skinny jeans and leather jacket by his better half.   
Sportacus greeted them both warmly, embracing each of them in turn, as did Robbie. 

When Íþrótt landed, now dressed primarily in the traditional silver colour of the Elf Council, he was greeted equally affectionately by the group. Even though the newly appointed council elf wasn’t related to any of them by blood, as far as they knew, he had been well and truly adopted into their little family unit. 

Three sports elves and two fairy tricksters who had, between them, saved the world. Definitely something worth celebrating. 

Sportacus invited his family into the house that he shared with the love of his life, feeling a joyful contentment spreading through him. Family, love and a wonderful home - that was what life was really all about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone who has stuck with this story to the end! All of your wonderful comments and support has made this such a magical experience for me. This is the longest thing I have ever written and the only multi-chapter fic I have ever updated week by week.  
> I hope you all have enjoyed my self-indulgent little story and got as much joy from reading it as I did writing it.
> 
> You're all brilliant. Merry Christmas!
> 
> fi3fi3
> 
> P.S. This work is my Magnum Opus... or should that be my Magnus Opum haha!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr!  
> https://fi3fi3.tumblr.com/


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